by Chris Thelen

Created on: June 12, 2009

Clem stood in the doorway of the sod house staring at the vast prairie in front of him. As far as he could see, waves of grass moved in the wind. It reminded him of the trip across the ocean when he was younger - the vast open sea with nothing but water reaching to the horizon.

Standing here at this moment, he regretted having ever made that trip. He regretted leaving behind a land he knew all too well to come to this foreign place - a place he had come to know as a land of sorrows and hardships.

"Oh Mary," Clem said as he felt the tears flow down his face. "If I'd known it would come to this."

It seemed only yesterday when he and Mary made the trip to America. Clem saved for years to have enough money to purchase the ticket for the ship. Mary was hesitant to leave behind everything, but her love for him overrode her concerns. She was his devoted wife and she would go wherever he went.

He let his eyes move to the left where they fixed on three wooden crosses in the distance. This was not what he dreamed about back in his homeland. As a laborer, he dreamed about owning his own farm some day. When he heard the talk about America, his mind was full of hope and opportunity. Now he struggled to decide what to do next.

Slowly he walked to the three crosses and stood a moment staring at the bare ground. Less than a month ago, he and Mary placed their two young children into the ground. Over a period of a week, they slowly grew weaker and weaker as the fever overwhelmed their young bodies. He remembered digging the graves, taking out his anger with each shovel full of dirt.

"It's my fault for bringing you here," he shouted to Mary as he dug.

"It's no one's fault," she replied as she cradled the lifeless bodies of their twins. "You're a farmer now instead of a laborer. We own this land."

Clem kicked the sod and wiped the tears from his eyes. Only a week later Mary started with the fever. Burying her was the most difficult thing he had done in his life. He did not want to let her go. He hoped he would get the fever, but he remained healthy. He sighed as he watched the setting sun. The bright orange ball cast brilliant hues of red and orange across the few clouds in the sky.

"I'm a farmer," he smiled. "This is my land."

Mary was right. Regardless of what tragedy had fallen on them here, he was his own man with his own piece of land. If he had stayed in his homeland, he would be living in a shack with no sunset in sight. They could have just as easily gotten the fever there as here.

"At least they saw the sunsets," Clem whispered to himself.

He slowly made his way back to the sod house and thought about the sacks of wheat he had stored there. It was time to plow the earth. Perhaps there was hope in those seeds. Perhaps he would stay. Where else would he go? It seemed strange to him that the same prairie that had taken his family, also gave him hope.

He stopped at the doorway to his house and turned to watch the sun slip below the horizon. The waves of prairie grass brought back the same hope he had felt when he watched the sunset from the ship when they first came to America.

For the first time in weeks, he was encouraged. Tomorrow he would plow the earth once more and plant the seeds of a new life.

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