Everyone talks about how hard the oilfield is on him.
The long hours. The danger. The time away from home.
Nobody talks about her.
She's the one getting the kids to school, making every practice, sitting alone at the recital. She's handling the car that won't start, the dog that needs the vet, the furnace that quit in January.
She's up at midnight with a sick kid and up at 6am making lunches. She's mowing the lawn, fixing the fence, killing the spider because there's no one else to call.
She's explaining to a 4-year-old why Daddy can't FaceTime right now. She's spending another anniversary, another birthday, another holiday doing it all solo.
She doesn't get a day rate. She doesn't get per diem. She doesn't get relief at the end of her shift, because her shift never ends.
The oilfield runs on the men who show up. But it survives because of the women holding it all together back home.
She's earned it.