We woke up at dawn on Monday in Robinson, Ill. Hershey factory making Heath Bars across the street. Marathon Oil refinery blowing steam and fire. One woman Drive-In coffee shop - pull in on one side, give your order, pull around to the pickup window and the same woman hands you the coffee and takes your money. I drove with Jackson through fields of corn sprouts just barely breaking the surface. Past incredible backyard collections of junk. Around mountains of sand for the highway. Neighborhoods with thick green trees, then fields of foreverness. I didn't feel like we could make them ours. Felt too much like strangers in a strange land. Jackson was really quiet staring out the window. Didn't even listen to the radio. Just drove around thinking about who lived here and where we fit in.
Jeremy said the pictures of Jackson are so different when I get him out of the front yard. That morning I took only one shot of Jackson - under the popcorn shrimp sign. Then on the way to the airport we took the two shots in the field. Jackson's feet sunk in the mud and he fell over. It was a soft fall.