On Wednesday night Jess found me sitting in the Subaru trunk in a ten-minute waiting lot outside the Nashville airport doors, rainbow hat, purple pants, enormous smile. Our prairie river heartland True Pioneer Women roadtrip had begun.
The days that followed were a blur of neon and sunlight and sound and windows up and windows down and laughing, laughing about everything, singing along loudly, badly, crossing rivers and plains and selecting husbands and drinking hotel bed beers and dancing on Memphis rooftops and creeping in Kansas City bars and marveling at Laura’s House and Elvis’ House and all of the things in between. I have scarcely felt so fine, or patriotic.
The lady is an excellent traveling companion, additionally.
On Sunday morning we crossed foggy cornfields and skirted Iowa, en route from Kansas City, MO to Omaha NE, where I left Jess at the tiniest airport in all the land.
It was with sleepy, lonesome excitement that I turned south to Beatrice, where I will remain until mid-October (despite the fact that our government has shut down).
Within six hours of my arrival, a stray cat came a-calling, yowling and garowwwwwling beneath my first floor window. It cannot be helped.
All along, Jake has been sending me updates of the three-legger back home, and reminding me not to bring home any prairie pets I might amass in my time here.
The girl gets smarter all the time.