Missouri on a Sunday Night


When I was younger, I had very idealistic views of the world. As with a lot of things in youth, my views changed with time and experience.

I remember thinking that growing up in Kansas City, Missouri was a cross that fate forced me to bear, until I turned 18 and could be released into the “real world”; the real world consisted of living in a big city or on a coast and working as a writer, yet somehow still making a living that would allow me to live lavishly. Life, I thought, would be full of brand new and exciting experiences every day.

But that’s not reality. Or at least, not my reality. My attempts at joining the “real world” resulted in me being chewed up and spit back out to the suburbs of Kansas City.

It’s funny because once I accepted where I was in life, I found that everyday was full of new experiences. If I spent time yearning to be somewhere else, I’d miss what was going on right in front of me. Like, jamming five people into a small fishing boat and going out on the Missouri river on a Sunday night.


Sarah Muntean, “It’s pretty, in a redneck sort of way.”


*talking about an object floating in the river*
Jenny, “I kind of hope its a body bag. Would make for an interesting day.”



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