Today I awoke to a stunning sunrise and walked crisp cornfields in the early light around a pond crystalized with ice. I startled a white-tailed deer on my way, which fled tail flashing, and rabbits popped from bramble and bush. Finches and wren and woodpeckers scattered for seed. And the little farm cat, also known as “Porch Kitty” welcomed me back to the house after my hour-long ramble. It was 18 Fahrenheit on my walk this morning at 7am and lovely — made this morning’s coffee all the more inviting. Now, the Nebraskaland part–my parent’s farm just outside of Nebraska City– of this homeward journey complete, it’s off for a rendezvous with friends in Kansas City tomorrow — the most central meeting place for friends who have since left the Midwest but return for Thanksgiving — and then to Iowa City with Feens on Sunday. So, yes, that’s Nebraska City, Kansas City and Iowa City. I am a woman of the world, indeed.
No matter how far I roam or where I eventually hang my hat, I’ll never deny this place from where I came. Its people are good and hard-working and have a sense of justice, however misguided I find it at times, and there is a sense of decency and equality bereft in other places I have traveled. Families are close here, as is mine.
In the Midwest, the food is hearty and the skies are big. Tonight, I shall once more drift off to sleep next to a window filled with the starry night scene. Outside, the cold will slow the gurgling spring; inside, the warmth of these quilts made by my pioneer great grandmother will slow my breath in somnolent peace.
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