One morning this summer I woke up at 4:00. My alarm signaled the beginning of a day full of work. I will fumbled into some clothes in the dark, because I'm too lazy to turn on the light. I opened my bedroom door and stumbled over the suitcase that is still perched on top of boxes after I moved home for the summer. I cussed quietly, Mom would chew my butt if she heard me, as I tried to beat my sister into the bathroom. I'll filled a coffee cup up as I walked of the door to call the horses in for their breakfast. Dad wanted to pull out of the yard by 5:00, horses saddled, everything ready to head over to the neighbors to get his last 100 pairs out to summer grass.
I live an atypical life compared to most. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am a 22 year-old college student entering her senior year, not ready to face the challenges down the road ahead of her. My whole life, I have been primed to face trials and find a way to go through, over, or under them, yet here I am looking at the road stretching for miles and years with who-knows-what kind of obstacles lying in wait. On the surface I’m hard, a little passive-aggressive, and a whole lot sarcastic, but inside I have some insecurities. I am here to tell you that those insecurities are not dirty secrets to be ashamed of. They’re natural, or at least that is what I tell myself.
Growing up on a ranch I have learned many lessons and, despite the struggles and hardships that come living this lifestyle I am so glad I had the opportunity to grow up the way I did. I learned how to problem solve and stick to my guns when a decision I made didn’t pay off the way I expected. I was a girl who grew up in a man’s world and I had to prove myself every step of the way, yet present myself in a humble way: let my actions speak for my abilities, rather than my words.
I developed a hard exterior, I know that. But I have never lost the softness in my heart. Calving out cows in a snowstorm, hauling those stinky, slimy, wet babies to the barn in my arms is something that I will never forget. I learned how to love working with my hands, I became creative. Woodworking ranks higher than fixing fence any day, but the latter is a higher priority. Ranching has helped me learn how to divide and arrange based on the urgency of the matter, despite my mad procrastination skills.
Who I am, as a semi-adult struggling to find my place in this world, can all be traced back to my heritage: the sixth generation to be raising cattle on this little slice of paradise in the Sandhills, a place unique to itself. No matter where I go in my future, I will always be a "ranch girl." There are many lessons that have been learned and that will be taught, and I hope that future generations get as much out of it as I did.
