Windblown woman of the plains

The relentless Nebraska wind has shaped her body, character, and her life.

Years of leaning into the wind have molded her small frame into the shape of a scythe. Much like the sand hills of the countryside, pelting dirt and sand have left waves of creases upon her skin. Her gray permed hair has the uncanny resemblance of a passing storm cloud. She smells of hard work and earthen aromas. Her closed lipped smile simultaneously serves as a barrier to the blowing grit and as a welcoming invitation. Her voice blends with the tonal lyrics of mothers past, echoing sounds of warning, sorrow and love.

Standing 5 feet tall and 100 hundred pounds, she looks as though she could be blown away with the slightest gust of air. Rooted like a cottonwood tree, she has kept her footing against the wind by leaning into it, letting it embrace her, pushing her upright and sometimes over. When others have snapped and lie broken from a modest breeze, she has remained steadfast, by leaning in. Yes, she has been blown down many times and been hurt in the process. With steely determination, she has pulled herself up, marching against the storms of her life in order to experience once more the brilliant Nebraskan sun, sky, and wind.

Powerful gales have stolen from her, leaving behind her true self. Stripped bare, her strength and raw courage are revealed, serving as a reminder that the strongest among us are often those who do not give up in the face of adversity.

She is a windblown woman of the Plains, honest, kind, friendly, and enduring. She could be you, she could be your mother, but proudly, she is my mother, and when strong winds blow, I think of her and lean in.

-- Marquette Hashman, a speech and language pathologist in Pennsylvania, wrote this in honor of her mother, Bonnie Marquette, who lives in Trenton, Nebraska.