wide open spaces

Polo is a small corn farming town about 90 minutes west of Chicago, Illinois. It has an area of 1.36 square miles and a population of 2,355, according to the most recent census. If you live on a farm (rather than the homes that surround the town's center) your nearest neighbor could be a half mile away. You hear the wind blowing more than you hear the traffic. You recognize every car that scurries by. The roads wind and spin in every direction. The street signs peek up just around bends. Locals make wrong turns, each one looks the same. Kelley and I arrived after three days and around 29 hours of driving, exhausted and anxious. Outside, the air was dusty and humid. The car was a mess, tiny splotches of bug remains covered the windshield, soot layered the car and Kelley's dog Cooper had begun to get restless in the back seat.

He knew where we were. It's funny, the dog recognized the area sooner than Kelley. They had been here before. I couldn't stop staring out the window. You passed one tiny red barn, then the next one was a spec in the distance. Nothing in between. Tractors had to stop to let us pass.

"So what do you think?" Kelley looked at me and knew the answer.

"Um, it's nice." I hesitated.

I was determined to be supportive. It's not my life, it's hers. I continued, my voice got higher, "It's really quiet." Even going 60 mph on an empty dirt road, the silence was deafening. We weren't in San Diego anymore.

"Try to imagine the corn stalks growing up and above your head. This sucks. It's so pretty when it's all green. It glows in the morning." Kelley was trying to be persuasive and I believed her. Timing is everything. This clearly wasn't the moment for photo ops but I have a decent imagination. Winter had just ended, the endless farm land had recently been plowed, leaving huge plots of brown; mixed up dirt and soil. But I could imagine the beauty, the beauty in someplace new and different. Kelley's excitement was strangely contagious.

boots 

molly the mule just taking a nap

Putting yourself in an environment you never thought you'd be in before can have one of two results. The first: enlighten you to a lifestyle you are not accustomed to, letting you embrace something different and grow in life experience. Or the second: terrify you, reconfirming your so definite beliefs. And while my brief one and half days in Polo was enlightening never have I ever been more firm in my beliefs. I belong in a city.

Of course, Polo wasn't for me, it was for my friend and we did everything you're supposed to do on a farm. Look out at the horizon, comment on the weather, make a plan, talk about the plan, have some coffee, and then do the plan. And after all that is finished, which takes about an hour, there's time to think, to ponder, to dream...

How soon until Chicago?

blonde bombshell

molly the mule 

Is there a more beautiful animal than the horse? The farm where I stayed had four horses and one mule. I didn't know the difference, but Kelley's boyfriend's Dad made sure to tell me. Mules are smarter and more keen on the idea of humans as a force of intimidation and danger. They don't scare as easy as horses, yet are much more sensitive and touchy. You have to break them in, as you do with horses, but it's more of a challenge. Molly the mule had her own green pasture to graze, and all the time in the world to just be. She responded to our calls and her eyes were remarkable. Dark pools of grace and strength. Watching Justin (Kelley's boyfriend) ride Molly was a trip highlight, as well as just being around the animals. Kelley and Justin practically threw me into the pen with them and it was an incredible moment that became overwhelming instantly. I was surrounded. They allowed me to feed them, and brush their knotted hair. I danced around the manure below me. The horses were aware of every touch, every move, which in turn makes you more aware. They could crush you, or just kick you really hard. 

The day before we ventured off into Chicago, sometime between playing with the horses and dinner at the Candlelight Diner, Kelley and I took a hike in White Pines Forrest. The trail was empty and I was amazed that all the surrounding flat land my eyes had gotten used to could contain a place like this, with streams and trees, and trails and cliffs. I knew it would probably be the last time Kelley and I would take a walk together, at least for the foreseeable future. We always walked Cooper back in San Diego, and when I was younger always trying to lose weight, she would walk the hills in our neighborhood together, encouraging me along the way. For some strange reason it felt as if I was now encouraging her, moving her forward. We talked about nothing: the trail, what we were gonna have for dinner, what the weather in Chicago would be like. It all was so normal yet profound. I was in such an alien place, a place she was going to call home. I wondered about things, I wondered out loud, "Kelley, are you going to be ok here?" I kicked the dirt below me. 

"I'll be fine." And just like that I was fine too. 

***

There's something to be said about living a simple life. I mean, do we really need Wi-Fi at all times? Is a Starbucks on EVERY corner really necessary? I have lived in what I would describe as a fairly urban, upper middle class beach community my whole life. This is my normal. It's a life that to many people is not normal by any means. When I arrived in Polo and saw the town, the people, the wide open spaces, I thought to myself, this isn't normal. But it is for those who live here, were raised here, were from here. It's all relative right? It may not be a place that I could call home, but it's a remarkable place nonetheless, as all places are if you look at them through the right lens. I may have my city goggles on at all times, dreaming of 5th avenue and giant lofts, but it was nice, if even for a brief moment, to be somewhere where you can see for miles in every direction, where your neighbors wave at you, where nature is in control, and where just living is enough.