Down the farm roads we went, threading along the Iowa-Missouri border, leaving a plume of backroad powder in our wake. We were bent on getting lost and had made good on the plan. We drifted through an endless maze of corn and watched as the sun dipped low and set its own path toward Nebraska.

There's nothing quite like corn country to set your mind right, to empty it out and fill it back up with soft thoughts and gentle notions. This was exactly what we needed, seeing as how we were swapping our life in San Francisco for a new one in Chicago. Sure, we could've hopped a plane and jumped straight into the new world. But it seems wrong to jerk the mind around with such violence. So we meandered toward our new life instead, a soft breeze at our back bumper and an uncertain sky ahead.

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