North for the Summer
To a lot of people around here, the 60-mile ribbon of I-80 between Omaha and Lincoln is a well-traveled one. For me and many others, this same band of concrete has been commute to work, college homecoming, and hopeful football pilgrimage, just to name a few. It's a highway teeming with the stories of those who travel it.
I drove it last night, just after sunset, with my older brother in the passenger seat. The sky was still ablaze with brilliant colors, illuminating the forsaken windmills, weathervanes, and decrepit barns that dot the remarkably undulating landscape. It is a gorgeous stretch of road. Over the shorn winter fields that flank the highway, Canada geese shuffled in and out of their Vs.
My brother pointed out one of these wedges as its members broke formation and alighted just off the shoulder in front of us. We sat in a sort of quiet reverence, as if words might shatter the delicacy of the moment. I thought about the nature lovers - the birders, photographers, and hunters for whom I so often describe products, and I grasped their passion.
I would love to have stopped to savor the sight. But daylight was fast fading and the rushing traffic would have overwhelmed the idyll. Plus, we were on our way to watch our youngest brother coach a basketball game.
We finished the drive safely, indulged in some exquisite pizza, and watched our brother see his team to a victory. It was by all accounts a pleasant evening. But I'm certain the clearest picture in my mental photo album will be the indelible image of northbound geese, stopping to catch their breath on the long trip home.