WE TRAVEL WESTWARD

The world has recently gone to shit and we are somewhat relieved to be escaping the city – to leave it’s jittery-ness – but we’re also a bit nervous about becoming outsiders in small town America and its wide open spaces.

It’s still dark when we pack up the car and very quiet at this hour. All we can hear are the multitudes of crisp, new American flags flapping from every porch on the street.

We consider putting a “These colors don’t run” or some other sloganed sign in our rental car- to stop any overly patriotic eyes.

We manage to get out of town before the traffic gets heavy and endure the first few hours of Interstate travel. We know we’ll soon be on secondary and historic  state highways, so, that’s a comfort – but I’m still somewhat white knuckled as we near the Quad Cities and I worry miles before we get there about the Interstate interchange at Des Moines. 

There was rain in southern Iowa and I hallucinated hay bales into horses as we raced through the NW corner of Missouri. We decide to stop in St. Joseph, MO to rest, stretch our legs and get our bearings.

In a brass and fern festooned restaurant where Zydeco blared from hidden speakers, our waitress assured us the food was "fabulous."

It’s a little less than fabulous, but not bad. I push my salad around on my plate knowing it’s going to be nothing but iceberg from here to the coast.

Our waitress says she dreams of seeing Chicago one day.

She says "Jerry Springer! Woo woo woo!" – she grins and bugs her eyes.

She is enormously pregnant and tells us she will work right up to her due date. She tells us she’ll be a single mom.

She tells us she'll name her baby Dakota. Cody for short.

It's an Indian name she says.

We don't ask her if she how she feels about bringing a new life into the world we now inhabit. Though I’m thinking about a clear September morning and all those flags that now flap in the wind.