The last time I�d been to Missouri was with my old boyfriend. We�d were driving through from Arkansas on our way to a friend�s wedding in Nebraska� You know, it would be so easy to go down heartbreak road right now, but let�s just let it go, okay? Let�s just leave it at the last time I�d been to Missouri was 5 years ago. I�d visited a cave somewhere close to Branson in the early fall. It was all hills and forest and well, Ozarky.

This past weekend, I was in Missouri for a conference in Columbia. It was an agonizing trip at first. I left Austin at 3 p.m. and arrived in St. Louis via Denver(?!) at 9:30 p.m. My �in terminal� car rental was actually a mile away. I was told to wait outside for the shuttle. Excuse my colorful language here, but it was f*cking 16 degrees (yes, Fahrenheit!) outside. I was wearing a jacket and sweater, jeans and gloves, but after about 3 minutes, I couldn�t feel my nose anymore.

Once I had the car, I had to drive to Columbia. I got to the Howard Johnson just after midnight. Inside the room, I cranked up the heater (a window unit) as high as it would go. Now I ask you, why is it that in the dead of summer those things will chill a room cold enough to store sides of beef, but when I tried to heat my room so that I wouldn�t lose a toe while I slept, it blew air that was at its hottest about 50� F? Sure it was warmer than it was outside, but I ended up sleeping in socks, a gown and a sweater and still got goose bumps so big I woke thinking I�d grown breasts all up and down my arms.

The next night, when I and others at the conference walked to dinner, I wore half the clothes that I brought for the trip under a big bulky green cable-knit sweater that I brought back on a trip from Ireland. I must�ve looked pregnant with septuplets, but dammit it was necessary. Still, with me wearing enough wool to strike sparks if I sneezed, I still lost feeling in my lips and face after four blocks. Here I am trying to contribute to idle conversation, but all that comes out is, �Necks tim, holt da convrenz somplish wum. Wum. Wuuum! You no, [sniiifff!] wum, like Erzona.�

Even in Edinburgh, which apparently shares a latitude with Norway, I�d never been so cold. The high was like 22� F in Columbia, Mo.

Finally, just as I�d gotten used to a wind that blew so cold it burned my skin, it was time to go. I drove Sunday through mostly flat farmland to get back to St. Louis, across country with skeletal oaks and heartland soil turned to tundra. All this I�d missed in the dark on my way to Columbia Friday night. I decided that I couldn�t leave without seeing more.

There�s something about traveling alone that makes you both bolder and more timid than you�d be with a traveling companion.

I drove down to the old river district in St. Louis. The cold thinned out the tourists considerably. With nobody around around, I walked to the Arch. I walked along the riverfront. I walked in the park along the reflecting pool. I stopped at a cathedral to take pictures. I ate an oatmeal cookie for lunch. I visited the museum shops for knickknacks. And even though I was alone, I wasn�t lonely.

Funny how that works. I�ve been to parties hopping with people that I know and felt so lonely that it made me want to weep. But I�ve had moments of solitude and reflection, where the only sounds were my breath and my heartbeat, that were so full�

How is it there are times when we flee friends and family, lovers and children for precious seconds alone � and in the next instant feel as though we�ll go mad without someone to talk to, to hug, to laugh with? If we�re not careful, the human race will evolve into cats�

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