Commuting in Kansas is a whole different animal and by animal I mean cows. Cows like to wade in ponds in hot, humid weather. They gather on tops of knolls later in the day. They like to hang out with each other, which is sweetly surprising. And they are a lot of the excitement of driving to work. Them and tracking the progress of crops.

The highway views are open across late summer row crops and grazing ranges. Skylines here are grain elevators. Even the smallest towns have grain elevators you can spot from miles away.

I'm a terrible commuter in Kansas because I forget to pay attention to other drivers and here it's a thing to wave to strangers. Some people give a full hand wave while others simply raise an index finger off the steering wheel. I forget to think like a friendly Kansan whether I'm driving or a passenger and too often react past the critical point these fellow travelers can see me hastily try to wave back. Then I feel bad and more than a little rude for not showing proper camaraderie. It's over fast and I can't get it back and I tell myself I will do better but I'm just not used to this level of openness and reaching out to all people.

Making connections is such a challenge to me as a shy person. I like the challenge, though, the push to overall kindness and welcome. I like the simple act of acknowledging we see each other and aren't alone. Like the cows wading and resting together, we seem to thrive within community.

Maybe the Kansas wave signals fellowship like yellow off the main road can lead to a field of cheerful sunflowers.