Thumper the stuffed rabbit and a little girl who has a red bicycle and a couple who bought an old school building and are fighting a riptide to make it their home and a few local teens who have typewriter parties in an old barn and a little boy who said he has no words but then shouted goodbye and a fourteen-year-old girl and her friend who are brave enough to write their own songs and belt them out on the street and two grandmothers with a personalized golf cart and sidewalk chalk drawings of Maya and I - the "poem riters" - and cold sweet lemonade and a young girl writes beautiful poetry and knows a place where she can rest and a driftwood fence and a book of poems by Naomi Shihab Ney next to Dr. Suess's Go, Dog, Go, and a man who wanted to give us the word farmer but gave us husband instead.
Starting from Ovid, Co. The day already warm. Thirty miles ahead of us. The post office in Crook. The antique shops in Julesburg. Crossing the border into Nebraska. The welcome sign like a broad smile. Swigs of water. Shade wherever we could get it. Water towers, our new orientation. Entering Brule and the thermometer reading 95. The marquee sign. The old school house. Burgers in Ogallala. Old apothocary bottles. Visiting the alien. Driving back. Getting ready. Lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. Explaining the story of why we were there. Poems about grandmothers and farmers and red bicycles. Typewriter malfunctions. Nirvana covers. Sidewalk unicorns and startling likenessness.
My favorite part of the day? Giving two little kids in the trailer at the back of the tandem. Hearing their giggles, feeling their joy as we bumped along the dirt roads around the old school. How this was poetry too. The best kind, in my book.