Going Home

Driving across the prairie states, my travel tension and lists of “things to do” leveled out like the land. The expansive sky with its multiple tiers of scudding clouds escorted me along the interstate, past rolling corn and bean fields that formed enormous patches of texture. And along the highway, a parade of silky tasseled grass waved their hankies to greet me.

I was coming home to visit family, where neighbors smile at neighbors, and people are mostly trustworthy, their word good, their handshake firm.

 

There is something about the prairie land in Iowa that opens my creativity, unknots my attitude, and calms my soul.