We are in Sioux Falls, South Dakota and when I close my eyes, visions of prairie hills dance in my head. We passed through some of the most breathtakingly beautiful scenery and saw some of the worst poverty in close conjunction.
They melded together for the most jarring effect in Mission, South Dakota. I felt like my soul was expanding through each breath as I took in the image of rippling hills, silvered with sun and wind, rolling on under an endless sky. And then there were the houses and trailers and trash.
We forked out seventy bucks for a very nice hotel room, instead of sleeping on the truck bed in sleeping bags, the original plan. However, fall at home is early winter up here. My husband is fond of the "forced cuddling" technique; that of lowering the general temperature to the point where he, as the only source of heat, becomes an object of overpowering attraction. (Not that he isn't that in general terms, of course.) But sleeping out in thirty degree weather would have elevated Forced Cuddling to Unnecessary Torture, and who wants that? Not us.
Tomorrow we drive another six hours north toward Duluth, Minnesota. The rest of my clan are all converging on this point as well. Someone should warn the townsfolk.
