Trees were green and lush. Fields freshly planted waited for October’s harvest. Grain silos and barns dotted the landscape.

We drove Indiana’s backroads on a summer’s eve. Amish in carriages being pulled by horses. Pickups passing them by. A kid on a bicycle trying to keep pace. Curves in a winding road taking us across state. We passed cows and bulls. Cemeteries with headstones dating back to another time. Small towns and tattoo parlors. Motorcycles parked out front. Signs that said No Passing.

I looked at the tall weeds on the side of the road. Mailboxes with obscure numbers on them. Did the United States Postal Service even know these people exist.

It was farmland. Our time in it was brief. Though it seemed to stretch for miles. Wires hung overhead. It’s a wonder they have electricity.

Windmills spun in the wind. An American flag on a wooden shed. Front yards an acre long. These people are forgotten.

Nighttime fell. Darkness swallowed us whole. We drove under a quarter moon across the Midwest. Soon there will be light. Soon.

And this land will stretch across country through valleys and mountains. Through The Plains. All the way out west. We’ll be home soon. Soon.