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I had the strangest week last week.

I unexpectedly found myself in Southern Florida about a week ago. An elderly family member of my partner’s needed help moving their belongings and entire life across the country, much closer to family. It’s that point in their life now. We were more or less the only people available to help due to ~circumstances~. My partner and I arrived in Florida in the late evening, slept there, and started driving a truck full of their belongings and their car in tow the next day back up to the Midwest. We mostly only stopped to sleep, eat, and get more gas. At the outset, the cab of the truck was full of snacks and other items we were implored to keep handy. The lack of space and the sense of adventure from helping someone move reminded me a lot of the beginning of the movie My Neighbor Totoro when Satsuki and Mei are in the back of the truck sharing candy while the scenery drifts by in the background. My partner said as much about it as well.

At one of the gas stops we needed to make, I pulled some air plants off of some of the landscaping woodchips to bring home and keep in a little mock-greenhouse. They grow like weeds in Florida and the Southern parts of Georgia; they drape out of trees, their networks several feet long; they grow on the ground, creating mounds of tangled plant material; they grow on the sides of buildings. I saw some covering a fire hydrant. Their virility struck me as something I wanted to keep (selfishly). I was very careful as we drove through other states; they can’t survive in the climate I live in unless they’re indoors, but I also didn’t want to introduce a noxious invasive species to wherever we were just because I wanted another houseplant.

We stopped to sleep in Northern Florida on the first night. The hotel we stayed at was right off of the highway and had rooms that were accessed from the parking lot. Our room had wooden floors, which I greatly appreciated since carpets usually aggressively soak up whatever cleaning fragrances are used. It felt like being put up in someone’s nice guest room in their home and the staff reminded me of some my Southern relatives: friendly, relaxed, unhurried. Our interactions didn’t feel fraught with trying to figure out relative social statuses and acting accordingly the way it feels in the Midwest with strangers sometimes. I’m generally really bad at that practice and honestly hate it because I don’t “see” things socially that other people intuit easily. Maybe calculations were made on their part that I wasn’t aware of because I’m not familiar enough with the deep culture we were in.

If I’m being honest, I was very anxious about driving through the “real” American South because of who I am. In some cases, I think I was justified in my anxiety: in other cases, I encountered regular people that talked to me like a fellow human. I guess I was expecting the split I got. I’ve certainly been in the South before, but not rural “Deep South”. There are also a fair number of people I've worked with that grew up in the South. My apologies if you live there or are from there and I am upsetting you with the stereotypes I am tiptoeing around: I don’t think all Southerners hate me or want me to die or anything like that. It’s the recent legislation and events and political talk that give me pause. I am also very aware that the rural areas around the city I live in in the Midwest have a high concentration of people that would like to cause me harm or limit my legal capabilities as well. That's also not to say that cities are havens by any means. I guess being out on the road with significantly fewer people around, I sound and look different, and I can't interpret social cues well gets me nervous.

Anyway. The hotel had a little outdoor pool. I hadn’t been to a place for swimming for years. I haven’t really enjoyed it since I grew into my adult body. When I did go on rare occasions with my partner, we used to go to a well-populated area with a large lake very early in the morning before other people arrived. The water is much colder that early in the morning, but it makes it feel all the more refreshing. The morning sun feels wonderful on your cold, damp skin as it rises from the horizon. I’d usually want to leave when other people showed up. It’s something I’m working on. I’m tired of wearing oversized shirts and regular shorts for swimming: it’s not safe because I don’t have the proper range of movement to swim properly. There are so many swimsuit options now that provide full coverage for the shape of my body to combat dysphoria in a way that feels empowering rather than like I am trying to hide myself.

We went to the pool and sat on the edge for a bit since it was pretty cold (relatively speaking) and no one else was using it. We talked about the situation we were helping to solve and the people involved. There are aspects about it that I’m still trying to figure out my feelings around, if they are valid or disordered.

There was a chain barbecue restaurant across the highway from us. My partner got a Cubano sandwich—I think this may be their favorite sandwich? And I got a pulled-chicken sandwich. It was very smokey and there was extra BBQ sauce to put on it. We ate in our hotel room.

We split some fried okra and something called corn nuggets, too. I'm from the Corn Belt (it’s a part of the Midwest that grows most of the US’s corn during the growing season), love fresh corn in moderation, and had never heard of such a thing. They’re these little fritters of creamed corn that have been deep-fried and lightly dusted with powdered sugar. I liked them a lot. I think it worked well because they used a sweet corn variety. It sounds like they’d be a desert, but they’re actually surprisingly savory. If I find a recipe that works, I’ll probably make them in late summer with the corn from our CSA.

We got up the next morning and found somewhere to get gas and little souvenirs for my brother. We stopped at what my partner called a “tourist trap”. I generally don’t feel good about tourism or the industry. It can create a “false” economic system in a region that would have been fine just living their lives, producing whatever they need for themselves and trade. When a place becomes dependent on tourism for survival, what are they supposed to do when highways are re-routed, or an interstate highway is paved, or the attraction isn’t as popular anymore, or a global pandemic happens?

I digress. This “tourist trap” seemed like it had seen its heyday in the 90’s. It was on an old highway. Their billboard advertisements featured locally grown citrus fruits for several miles leading up to the area. The fruits were set up in stalls, separated out by type like a farmer’s market outside the main building. From what I could see, there were citrus varieties we don’t see in the Midwest because they’re too niche and grocery stores don’t have a reason to stock them. We went right inside to look through the craft items though, since we were running low on time to avoid some severe weather. Unfortunately, I never got a chance to look through the fruit. I feel like it was one of those “when will I ever be here, in a situation like this, again?” missed opportunities. I love fresh produce so much. It tastes so much better when it’s eaten soon after harvest and doesn’t have to endure shipping.

My brother likes spicy food a lot. I looked through the hot sauce section first and found the one that looked the spiciest and wasn’t available in our region. I grabbed a smaller bottle in case he didn’t like it. The bathrooms were at the back of the building. They were particularly clean and bright. There was a little transparent tub with what looked to be homemade coconut scrub for moisturizing your hands after washing them. The label for it was printed in all capital letters with a label maker. It had a little wooden spoon in it for serving. I didn’t use it because I wasn’t sure what the ingredients were (I have stupidly sensitive skin), but details like that make me feel a little twinge of care in someone’s hospitality. It’s like a small salon or local bank having a free coffee and tea station, with the cheapest coffee and tea they can find. It’s not much, but the little gesture feels human.

We were the only patrons there the entire time besides one older man that came in to use the restroom and seemed to know the workers. On our way around the perimeter of the store, we encountered a taxidermied alligator on an elevated platform with scenery painted on the wall behind it. Surrounding its feet were preserved baby alligator heads with marbles where their eyes had been in life. I’ve seen these before in Louisiana so I wasn’t too off put, but it’s still a macabre feeling to be around them en masse. One of the last aisles I looked at had a shelf of little established citrus trees. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had started a lemon plant from seed a couple years ago, but it died when the windows were opened near it when we were entertaining during the winter. I lost my zeal for it and hadn’t tried to start another, but it was on my eventual to-do list. So I picked out a baby lemon tree.

The lemon tree is about 6 inches tall (about 15 centimeters) right now, and seems to have taken well to the pot I transplanted it to so far. They also had lime and orange trees. I figured I should just start with one, but it’s another “when will I ever be here, in a situation like this, again?” missed opportunity. The trees were very cheap, and were intended to be grown for eventual consumption, so their flavor is more or less guaranteed. If I try to grow citrus from seed at home, citrus are usually not “true to seed”, so the resulting plant may not be tasty like their progenitor. Three to five years is a long time to wait to see if it was all worth it!

We drove through the entire state of Georgia in one day. It was my first time being in Georgia. The countryside passed us by quickly, but it was a beautiful blur. Even in the beginning of spring, it is significantly more verdant than the middle of summer in the Midwest. It reminded me a lot of Louisiana. In Louisiana, the roads are suspended just barely over the surface of swamps for miles in some cases. We missed Georgia peach season by a couple months. It’s okay, though; we didn’t really have time to stop and dilly dally in any way.

We passed by a lot of free-range cattle fields. I’m not sure if the cows were intended for dairy or meat production. They have different body composition than the dairy cows I’ve seen in the Midwest. They were leaner and seemed to have longer legs. Many of the cows had a single white egret standing next to them. One cow, one egret. It was strange. My partner’s sibling is really into birds and will hopefully get to be an ornithologist some day. They said it might be that the cows disturb something that the egrets like to eat as they graze, or it might be for protection from predators. I like to think that they’re good friends and enjoy each other’s company, even if it’s silly and doesn’t make sense.

Atlanta was so big! The highways created complex serpentine patterns around us as we drove through. They reminded me of the stages in Sonic games, I think specifically Sonic Heroes for the Gamecube. Again, we didn’t have time to stop, but I saw a lot in the amount of time that it took us to drive through in what I believe was afternoon rush hour.

We ended up sleeping near Nashville, Tennessee that night. The person who checked us in at the hotel had what looked like galaxy-themed acrylic nails and chunky, thick-rimmed black glasses. After checking in and getting set up in the room, my partner walked over to a Waffle House to pick up an order they called in while I laid under the covers of the bed I picked to recover from overstimulation.

I’d never had grits before. We each got a side of them with our main dish. I asked for mine to be loaded up with almost all of the toppings offered. Apparently, that’s not the norm and my partner and the workers had a good laugh about it because the grits barely fit in their little container with the toppings. Grits are ground up dry corn pieces made into porridge, basically. Like congee or oatmeal. It was creamy and satisfying. Again, it’s odd to me that this dish isn’t more commonplace in the Corn Belt.

After Tennessee, we wound our way up closer to the part of the Midwest we live in. The terrain and plants started to look more familiar; more dead from the time of year and weather. Everything started to flatten out. The trees didn’t have leaves; the fields were bare and stale flaxen in color. The only animals I saw were crows or Canada geese.

It’s nice to be home and settling back into routines and familiar foods. I missed my morning yogurt a lot. I think my gut needs it, and probably my brain, too. There’s a growing body of evidence that gut health and mental health are heavily linked (especially for the neurodivergent among us). That’s not to say I didn’t appreciate the chance to try new-to-me foods. I really enjoyed the regional foods we had as we went through different areas.

I set up some more seeds to germinate, transplanted the lemon tree, and suspended the air plant above the kitchen sink for consistent moisture and sun once we were properly settled back in. I found a small stash of seeds from 2015 when I was deep cleaning our little plant shelf. I think it’ll be trying my luck, but I’m going to see if I can get the tomatoes and thyme among them to germinate.

I’ve been trying to catch up on emails, Neocities posts to read, and general news over the weekend and into the week. I didn’t really get a chance to stop and read anything since we were always driving, sleeping, eating, or route planning. I can’t read in the car, also; I get motion sickness easily. We barely used the radio. The cab was pretty loud because of how strong the engine was and perhaps where it was situated. It feels like we stepped out of reality for a week and crashed back into normal once the truck was emptied, cleaned, and returned.

Driving everything for the family member was last minute and mostly unplanned. I had been getting ready to deep clean our apartment beforehand. So, I’m going through with it now in manageable chunks between exhaustion naps. I’ve been finding myself nodding off by the afternoon if I don’t take ample breaks. Our cat has been glued to me whenever my partner is at work and I'm home and stationary.

That’s a lot more words than I set out to write, so I’m done for now. Thanks for reading. I hope you’re eating well and getting your sleep! See you again sometime.