To Valley

Back home.

I was embarassed to tell my childhood friend Shautay that when the sun shone on my face as I sat in the airplane on its decent, I wept. It is a difficult emotional response to dissect because the emotions within me were so convuluted. It was contentment I felt; happiness, relief to be back, despair at the life I do not have there, incredulity that it has really been so long. These emotions stirred themselves violently within me as I looked at the patchwork prairie fields from above and the sun still shone, steadfast. And I leaned my forehead on the dirty plane window, accepted the moment, and wept.

She giggled when I told it, her own incredulity asking why anyone would be so happy to be back in North Dakota. That's when I faultered with a lack of response because in that moment I was lazy at explaining how different the cultures are, how impactful the land is, and perhaps mostly, how a part of me only truly comes alive when I return. It seemed so wispy and trite in that moment, so I laughed too.

We got into her car, oooed and ahhed at her puppy, and began the short trek to Valley City as the sun set over I-94. The semis buzzed by and cut the red blaze of the sun in two parts, disrupting the flat horizon. And we talked about the last several years of our lives as we sped 75 mph toward a home I should no longer claim as my own.