At 11:30 on the Sunday night before last, I stepped off a plane after a whirlwind weekend in New York City. Then, just four days later, my parents pulled in my driveway and I hopped in their car for a road trip to Iowa. Talk about two ends of the spectrum: sky-high buildings, swarming streets, and foreign accents were replaced with top hat-high corn, long stretches of desolation, and mid-western drawls. Now I’m back at work trying to make sense of it all.