The Illinois Period
2012-2015
For some reason the laundry mat keeps coming to me.
It was clean and quiet, essentially functioning as an escape to run off to and read, guilt-free. Sometimes kids disrupted the quiet, but never the peace. I found comfort in how equalizing the place was. We all have to wash the dirt out of our clothes at some point. Nearly every time I went, I would text my brother snaps of the humid room with lyrics from Doctor Horrible’s Sing Along Blog. Who knew such a mundane task could become an event?
But mundane might be the word that best sums up my time in central Illinois. The small town of Normal was very different than anything I was used to, and Midwesterners (as I like to think of them) are very different kinds of people.
It was here that I first began to feel Southern.
For one thing, the place was rather homogenous. For another, folks seemed cold. I couldn’t figure out how to relate with those around me. Also, it snowed there. And not the Alaskan kind of the snow, the wet, icy kind of snow.
But I liked my quiet, random life there. Being a very flat part of the country, I cycled most everywhere, caught classic films at the Normal Theater on weekends, meandered through farmer’s markets, frequented the most wonderful used book store, volunteered at the local fair trade shop, joined a wine club, wrote songs, learned to cook new things. It was mundane in the best sort of way.
After about a year I began to make friends. I transitioned from working for the university to being a graduate student and an AmeriCorps participant. Also aided by the arrival of a dear friend from the south, I slowly incorporated social things back into my life. I continued to do what I had been doing, only this time sharing it with others, which is inherently more joyful.
Illinois was such a unique time in my life and eventually turned into a place I could love. It conjures images of windmills, fields of corn and soy, friends from wine club and church, discovering craft beers, picking up the mandolin and starting a folk band, meaningful conversations with my roommate.
Yet for some reason, I still think of the laundry mat first.