The place I come from is nothing special. It's the kind of place where big dreams go to die, i.e., my big dreams. It's a wasteland disguised by infinite bean fields and the occasional big city. Even worse, it's the kind of place that traps the soul and holds it ransom during the coldest season of the year.
You'll never see someone traveling to Iowa for pleasure, regardless of the time of year. You'll never hear anyone say that they are craving that good ol' Iowa weather, or that they just can't wait for their winter getaway to escape the snow in small-town Iowa. You'll never see anyone's office cubicle plastered with scenic posters of corn fields and grain bins.
You will, however, see people flocking by the thousands to sunny Caribbean hot-spots all year round. You will hear people lament about the fact that they don't actually live on the Florida coast. And there's a good reason for that.
As much as people try to ignore it, location is everything. I've felt the emotional burden of living through five frozen months in Iowa, year after year. I've also felt the warm Texas sun on my back on Thanksgiving Day. I've experienced the instant relief of standing in the warm white sand of a West Florida beach.
I've felt trapped, and I've felt free.
And I know the difference.
Freedom is staring at an endless ocean from a picturesque beach with a strawberry-banana smoothie in hand. Imprisonment is suffering through cruel Midwest winters year after year because nobody ever had the guts to leave the region in search of better things, like beaches and endless sunshine.
When you change your residence (even just for a day), your entire universe transforms itself instantly. I dare you to take the challenge. I truly think that people underestimate the power of geography. When you surround yourself with dreary winter blues for half the year and dusty cattle lots for the rest of the year, it's no wonder that you have a hard time staying positive.
I've heard people say that they could never live in those overcrowded coastal cities. People also say that they're just fine and dandy living in the Midwest. But are they really, truly happy here? Could there possibly be something better out there than endless family farms and that perpetual smell of hog manure?
This piece isn't meant to shame anyone for farming or living a modest life in small-town Iowa. Part of what makes this state so irresistible is its family values and hometown flair. All I'm saying is that I'm going to treat myself and thrive on island vibes until my precious summer air comes back next year.
It will be a glorious homecoming.