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Written en route to the states, July 21st

I will soon be back in the land of friendly, confident, gum-chewing, PB&J eating, pony-tailed people. Where the portions are large and the cars larger. Where the customer is number one, and there is water waiting for you on the table at a restaurant. Of patriotic, proud people who race form one appointment to the next.

To Iowa, where the heat is stifling, the corn is ripe, and the farmer's market is in peak season. Where the ice-cream shop is the place to be on a Friday night, and where there are competitions for growing the largest squash or most beautiful tomato. Where the highway extends through rolling hills and small towns. Where the people are quick to smile, and quick to offer you a hand. To spacious Midwestern homes with mailboxes lining the street. Where deer threaten cars and mosquitoes are a menace.

To home, where there are baked goods always in the kitchen, coffee brewing, and the smell of pork chops emanates from the backyard grill. Where I can step outside and go for a hike, and where owls lull you to sleep. Where the night sky is littered with stars. Where biking is out of the question, because there are no shoulders or sidewalks. Where books line the shelves, beckoning to be read.

To my family who is a treasure. To discussions at dinner, cooking together, and chats around the bonfire. To late night astronomy lessons, and hikes in the woods.

Home.