From Southwest Colorado to Northeast Kansas, one experiences the first few lines from the song, America the Beautiful.
O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain!
The first night in Flo was in WaKeeney, Kansas—hot but luckily Kansas offered a breeze, albeit 90F/32C. Laying in her even as the sun was down felt like lying in an oven—basting as the sweat rolls down the body with no physical effort.
For those who know me well, I don’t do heat. I rarely leave the house if it’s over 80F/26C—my melting temperature. You may think I’m kidding, but I’ve skipped important conferences, camping trips, and invitations to travel due to this strong preference. Before leaving for Kansas, I haven’t left the house in the middle of the day for over a month.
When the rising sun peered through the open window and warmed up the inside of Flo, I swiftly made my way back onto the road.
Driving the backroads from I-70 through Perry, McLouth, And Oskaloosa, I drive by high school friends’ houses and wondered where they were and what they were up to today. Many of the roads now paved, were once gravel. I flew through the scene of where I wrecked my first car. And I shut off the GPS once things were familiar. I have traveled the road leading to my parents house thousands of times, but it has been over a decade since I’ve been back during the summer. The amount of green reminded me of the south—lush and overgrown.
My life in Colorado is simple: no pets, no kids, no lawn, one plant. The retired life my mother lives is simple too—made interesting by grandkids, gardening and her wild imagination for travel and memories of life on the road. We can talk endlessly about where we have been and where we want to go next.
Her surgery is today. She’s under now as I write this. With the new COVID rules complicating all protocols, we await her arrival back home.