Wind

Music blared through the headphones of my favorite band as I settled into the backseat of my mom's car. At ten years old, I was a travel buddy to mom while she drove the family car to Indiana where we would meet up with my dad and brother on a visit around Indiana, Michigan, and into Canada to visit family and friends. My cherished Walkman was nestled between my leg and seat of the car. I held tightly to my Laura Ingalls Wilder  book while trying to push my hair off my face. I had been spending time alternating between reading the book, cozy in the back of the car, and watching the changing scenery as we traversed across the country.

Mom and I were driving back to Indianapolis from Phoenix together to on an amazing trip I won't forget. There were moments of flat landscape and the trip was long but I don't really remember ever really being bored by the trip. There was so much to see, and even when the landscape was flat as we crossed Oklahoma I remember recalling reading Little House on the Prairie and her description of the prairie land and how miles ahead of her and mile after there was nothing but flat grassland. I'd heard description of this part of the country as being flat and dull but I was fascinated. In my ten year old mind, it was awesome to see this part of the world. All I had been exposed to in my life was the mountainous terrain of Arizona and the hot valley, Phoenix, where we lived. I'd never experienced anything outside of Arizona and this was all new to me.

Going through the Texas panhandle was interesting as we passed over hot dry grasslands where it didn't seem were moving. I remember stopping for gas and a quick lunch at a cafe and gas station. I remember picking out a small horse with plastic hair and a velvety type material over the horse designed to make the horse feel real. It wasn't exactly realistic but I loved it just the same.

We crossed into Missouri and we crossed over a river, it wasn't huge but it was full of water. I asked my mom what they did with all that water. When she told me they didn't do anything with it, my reply "What a waste." She still laughs about that response today. In my perspective, living in Arizona it was all about conserving water, not letting any of it go to waste. So why would any other part of the country be different. My exposure to water running under a bridge to this date was either a canal channeling water for use or a flash flood which usually resulted in the bridge getting closed.

We spend hours in the car stopping for food or gas. At times mom would pull to the side of the road and make me run around the car a  few times to keep me up and moving. I was lulled by the movement of the car and happy to read my book and listen to my tapes. I don't know how much of the trip the windows stayed down but that is what stands out to me, blasting music, fighting wind while trying to turn the pages of my latest Laura Ingalls Wilder and watching the countryside move past, all while the wind blew into the car. It brushed my face, sent my hair flying all over but was an enjoyable feeling of flying.