down in the valley

I sit here, frozen.  Not wanting to move, not wanting the day to progress any further than this very moment. 

Tomorrow, we leave. 

We head back to the place from where we came. 

We abandon the "Land of Lincoln", the "Prairie State".  

And I don't want to say goodbye. 

I don't want to travel those eight-hundred-forty-two miles to the place that is still called "home". 

I don't want to squint through the fog of tears as we pass the wind turbines headed east.

I don't want to avoid my camera like the plague or post color photos from weeks ago that I'm only slightly happy with. 

It's Independence Day for crying out loud. 

Yet, here I sit wallowing in this sorrow. 

I'm avoiding photographing this town, packing our stuff, getting out of this bed. 

It all sounds so ridiculous, but at this very moment,
I feel paralyzed.