Mainly I remember corn

A lot of words about absolutely nothing

“Do we spend most of our days trying to remember or forget things? Do we spend most of our time running towards or away from our lives? I don't know.”

—Markus Zusak

Last summer we decided to take a long road trip, as one does in a pandemic.

We ended up visiting 26 states in a van.

Maybe 25. I feel weird about counting North Dakota.

We skimmed the edge of North Dakota.

I didn't even get out of the car, or take a photo. I was waiting for a spot to pull over and capture the twilight over the open fields, the early stars twinkling over corn, and—whoosh—we were at the Minnesota state line. Guess I should have been checking Google Maps a little better.

We didn't plan to give ND so little of ourselves, to spend less than an hour in a state that certainly deserves more. But there was a storm coming and we did not want to be caught in it. We decided to cut across the state line, give it a quick Hello, and continue on, making our way to (we hoped) warmer places.

And that's what we did.

When I try to remember North Dakota, I don’t. What is there to remember? There was no experience. I barely saw it. It was the edge of something, like when you catch movement from the corner of your eye, but when you turn your head there’s nothing.

I’m not going to let that stop me, though. Facts? Actual memories? I don’t need those. I’m a writer. I am in the business of making shit up.

Here’s what ND is like, to me:

• It’s meeting a stranger's eyes across a room.

• It’s that one song by that one person about that one thing happening.

• It is the story I don't get to tell. At least, not yet. Maybe someday. I'd like to go back and give it more attention. I'd like to get a feel for what it is, not what I think I missed.

• It’s the song you hum but can't remember the words to.

• It’s a few words from a conversation you overhear as you walk by an open window.

• It’s the memory of someone you might have loved if you’d ever met them.

• It’s an alternate narrative, an alternate timeline.

• It’s an alternate life, alternate reality, and it's the one you didn't choose. Maybe you'll always wonder about it. Maybe you’ll roll over and go back to sleep and never think about it again.

🔗 It’s all in my head. Now some of it is in your head. Sucker.

.