Driving there it dawned on me that we have lived more of our lives elsewhere than we did here. While I do still love the countryside view, this explains why it is no longer "home." I don't feel welcome, comfortable, or at all a part of these people. I am strange, and a stranger... and it's a bit sad. Such is life, I suppose.
Anyway, we left The Fort mid-afternoon Friday and headed into the driving wind, snow, and sleet until it finally let up just before the Gary-Joliet stretch. As we dodged I-80 potholes the skies cleared and we didn't have to drive after dark for too long. It was an uneventful four and one half hour-ish trip.
Saturday morning Jane headed to her brother's house - which was the reason for the trip on this particular weekend. It was his 70th birthday. She was there the entire day. I went to Kewanee and got some furnace filters for my mom, did a four mile run, and stopped to wish him a happy birthday at one point too. Everyone seems to keep their homes very warm, and the brother's is dark with the curtains closed at all times. Mom warmed up potato soup for us for both lunch and dinner. We did also watch the Illini-Maryland men's basketball game in the evening (which was fortunately a win).
Sunday morning we were on the road at 9am (their time) and made an equally easy voyage back here.
These trips aren't a lot of fun anymore. I rarely see anyone other than my mom (which is my own fault, I know). So I'm sure some of it is imagined, but sometimes you can almost feel the racism, trumpism, and cynicism in your bones. And it's not like I ever set out to be different, or that I think I'm any better than anyone (God knows I'm way worse). It just seems like being there makes me not like who I am. I don't know why that is.
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