When I left Duluth briefly after college I arrived home (at my parents’) in the fall. Farmers were harvesting their crops and the air was sweet and dry with dusty corn stalks. I don’t miss much about living near the cities, but the sweet, clear harvest skies looked pretty good that night. I laid on my mattress, which was strapped atop my fishing boat still hitched to my truck.Staring at the stars, I plied them for an answer to all of the questions swirling through my Milky Way mind. I had left the town that I loved. The gal I loved was distant like the stars and I wondered if her eyes graced the same ones as mine. I stared into the unknown and breathed the nourishing air and humbly asked for direction.
My mind drifted to the simple days of childhood when I used to lay in bed listening to the drone of the farmers’ combines. I thought about everything that brought me to that point: high school, college, a couple of major decisions, a few lost people and all those daily choices. These things somehow placed me right then and there, laying on my mattress on top of my boat, gazing at the stars and wondering what they had in store for me. To this day every time I smell the harvest air my mind travels back to that night.
I like people who can write well, they bring me a particular joy rare in this world.