An Afternoon in the Country

It's sunny and 70 degrees, a perfect afternoon weather-wise. I'm riding in the cab of an old, red Ford truck. The windows are rolled down and the breeze is pouring in. Grandpa's truck smells familiar, like childhood. The red leather seat is warm, but not scorching.

The rolling fields pass by, intermittently broken up by farmhouses and faded red barns. The occasional foal or calf is cause for great excitement in the truck. The goat in the back bleats from time to time, her bell ringing merrily as the truck bounces down the road.

The sun warms my face and the wind strokes my hair. An Amish man waves as he passes us in his buggy. As the goat bleats again, the smell of freshly mowed grass tickles my nostrils.

I lean back on the seat next to my grandpa and my cousin. Three generations of Bakers, riding home from doing farm chores. This is happiness, I think, as I close my eyes contentedly. This is what it's all about.