Patterson

Patterson, IL · Lifestyle
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the woods of southern illinois
The sun sinks towards the horizon as we race south towards Alton. I tried reading my book, and now my stomach feels heavy with that familiar pit of nausea. With nothing else to do, I’ve taken to running my fingers along the tray table and looking around. For all the novelty of my first Amtrak (at eighteen years old), it is remarkably similar to an airplane. Smooth, gray, plastic seatbacks and smooth, gray, plastic fold-down tray tables. Faux leather upholstery that wrinkles when you sit on it too long. Nondescript blue carpeting down the center aisle. Dry, stale air. The outside view is new, though. This is the flattest place I’ve ever seen. Back in Massachusetts, the highways are bordered by steep rock faces and a never-ending supply of trees. The world seems so crowded, with only a stripe of sky overhead and cars all around, but here—it’s so empty. I see why they call it plains. Miles and miles of treeless countryside pass, seemingly to the end of the earth. I rest my head against the cold, clear plastic of the window and watch lone houses flash by in the waning daylight.