We drove through the setting Minnesota sun; through flood detours, crops, dirty roads. The last corn field I'll see for months. Moving makes my stomach turn to knots. Unexpected.
Onward in the night past invisible canyons, the Badlands were Goodlands in the moonlight. Twelve hours seemed like two - just Michael and me.
We were West, golden fields of grass, whispers of old days, each passing town - retired memorial to the past. Have some jerky.
Michael shows me a horse, a herd, a bale. I miss him.
We sneak into the mountains for one last look, half an hour left; I hear they never get old.
Day 2 in Colorado - I'm not as strong as I thought. I can't write much - my stomach is still churning.