This Sunday is Mother’s Day, and it got me thinking about a little moment from this week. Thought I’d share it with you.
Mom and I were chatting the other day, and she told me something that gave me a real laugh. She’d run into an old childhood friend while out at a restaurant. They got talking about school days, and he asked if she still remembered the old school cheer. Well—she didn’t miss a beat. Got right up and performed it, table-side. I’ll admit, if I’d been there, I might’ve sunk a little in my chair from embarrassment—but hearing about it later? I thought, “Yup, that’s Mom.” I’d forgotten she was a cheerleader, but it sure fits.
A lot has changed this past year. Dad’s gone. Mom’s moved to town. The farmhouse I grew up in is now home to our son and his partner.
A few weeks back, we were racing to get the last corn field planted before the rain rolled in. Fifty acres in a day isn’t nothing for our little operation. Anne and I headed to the field with the truck and a tractor, which meant Anne needed a ride home after dropping me off. So I made the call: “Hey Mom, you busy?” A few minutes later, there she was, pulling in, ready to help out—no hesitation.
With Anne on her way, I climbed into the tractor and settled in for the long day of back-and-forth work. And the worst part? No radio! It was just me and my thoughts.
It was the first spring without Dad. And I was planting the very field he bought as a young man. The farm I grew up on.
And then there was the house. Every time I passed it—now with Maddie’s car in the driveway—it reminded me how things have shifted. Not worse, not better. Just different.
I found myself thinking about all the things Dad would’ve said. The soil was in great condition—he would’ve gone on about that. The wheat across the road was growing beautifully—he’d have pointed that out too.
Right about then, my phone buzzed. It was Mom: “Bringing lunch.” She’s been doing that since I was a kid. This time, she drove out from town with takeout. I parked the tractor, we chatted, and I sat down to eat. That’s when it really hit me—yes, a lot has changed. But some things haven’t. I was still doing what I’ve always done. And so was Mom.
Around 3 p.m., she came again with coffee and a snack. We had a quick chat, checked in on progress, and back she went. Supper was already being planned back in town.
At 7 p.m. sharp, she showed up one last time with a hot meal. The clouds were rolling in, and I was on my last few passes. I thanked her, grabbed the food, and kept rolling. As I ate behind the wheel, I felt deeply grateful—for the day, for the help, for what hadn’t changed.
That night, I sent her a quick text: “Thanks again, Mom.”
Her reply? “You’re welcome. And by the way, it’s exactly 7 km from town to the farm.🙂”
Thanks, Mom. And thanks to all the moms out there for being our cheerleaders.
Farmer Rod