Day Twenty-One: The Home Stretch

When I arrive home it is the let down I was bracing for. My landlord and her people have been in my house unannounced and remnants of them are everywhere. The feeling of knowing someone has been in your home while you were not there; uninvited and unannounced is still one of the worst feelings I have known ever since the great robbery of 1992. All my belongings had been shredded or relocated to the local pawn shop.

I don't like people in my home with out asking. Bumping in to my memories, or plans or thoughts. It is so intrusive. So violating. I see things out of place and I see things messed up, changing becoming someone elses house. I feel like I want to spray everything down to wash away the well intentioned intruder. I am annoyed at the audacity to take away from the decompressing of my trip; the opportunity to ease back into my home has been ruined. I pour a stiff drink and sit on the couch.

I will not let this get the best of me. I just traveled 6.897.4 miles for God's sake'; I won't be bullied anymore.

I spend some time in the shadow of the new living room fan and digest the past 21 days. Twenty one days on the highways, byways and back roads of this great country. I could have gone from sea to shining sea but instead concentrated on the heart of this country in hopes of getting to whatever was the matter with me.

When I started on this journey it was because I was paralyzed in my grief for a life I wish I had. I had burdened myself with embarrassment  over being a restless soul and feelings of screwing up God's plan for me; whatever the hell that is.

Surely he did not intend for me to by rote go to a job I didn't love, go to a house that was not my home. and sit around in self-pity, self-sabatoge and self-loathing, or years on end. Surely this is not my personal legend. So I run. I run for 6,897.4 miles. I RUN.

I needed an avenue to forgive myself for the years of waste. Wasting the talent God gave me; wasting opportunity after opportunity because I was waiting for the life I imagened to happen. I have been a selfish silly girl. In my self deprecating world I have been disgusting; unappreciative and unintresting.

But with each mile rolled under me I travel closer and closer to where I am supposed to be.

When I set out on the driveway 21 days ago the weight was heavy. When I turned onto HWY 29 at the corner from my house, the first of many self-imposed burdens rolled over to the shoulder of the road.

When I hit the mountains of North Carolina I gained the slightest bit of courage as the curves are stronger then I am and the wind in blowing the rich signs of Fall up from my radiator like a snow storm in January. I will need this new found skill days from this day but just don't know it yet.

In Cincinnati I  struggle with the first night of unfamiliarity. I am not even sure how to take my beloved Louie for a walk; we aren't that familiar with leashes and poop bags.

The stop in Indy is awesome, like I am 14; there is Brad Stevens over there, 25 feet away. I want his autograph and genius all at once.

In Michigan we try to chase the sun before it sets on LakeMichigan and we fail. It is dark and we are lost and Traverse City seems a long way away. When we wake there on day three we are staring at the water and we deserve it. I find this a perfectly appropriately place to drown all my guilt.

The road to Escanaba by way of the upper peninsula is were I studied the loneliness that had become my life and I thought about how overly dramatic I have become.

The long ride across Wisconsin was quite enough to hear my fears hit the white lines. In Minneapolis I cheered on my brother's dreams and when I crossed the border into North Dakota I could hear my father's words; 'You are my favorite, today, Shama Lama' ... and he is singing Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling.

I had a hard time navigating the great oil boom of Western, North Dakota; but I felt my soul come alive in Battleview where the roads were embattled in progress and sameness all at the same time; the heart of the people I once knew were as pure and as real as the day we drove off in the plaid pickup 32 years before. My tears flowed into Powers Lake. All my girlhood audacity returned.

When Montana had roped me in I had decided to leave my regret at the foot of the mountains. In Idaho, I washed my self-loathing down the Falls. The road to Cheyenne is where I found out what I was made of; I was tested in the Badlands, Flint Hills, Flat Shoals, Blue Skys, Prarie Lands, and snow fall. Friends from Battleview to Nashville gave me shelter. I made it 6.897.4 miles - me and Lou - like Stienbeck and Charley; we stamped our mark. We made a statement; our statement.

No one can take this journey from us and only I can screw up the lessons learned.

This is what I know:

I am not a complete muck up. I was not built to be comfortable in one place; like the river, the water sign that I am', I am meant to wander and flow and never stop searching.

So, I don't have that man in my life and the house with two kids. Turns out I have a bunch a graceful women - Eileen, Wynn, Cindy, Anne, Tracey, Amanda, Catherine, Maryellen, Barbara, Aunt Julie, giving me encouragement and offering me shelter or memories or nurishment. It sure would be nice to see my husband, picket fence dream come true; but I am not doing too bad!

In the end I forgave myself somewhere over the Missouri River.

Going forward I have a clean slate; and a rich soul.

Thank you to all who have supported me in my journey. And if I could be so bold I would say to you, don't be late for your life. If you are unhappy; if you are feeling out of place; if you feel like you are not reaching your potential; whatever the longing - don't sit still and wait...

There is a story that goes something like this:

There is a man who has fallen into a deep hole on the side of the road. A Priest comes by and says I will go and pray that you find a way out. A worker comes by and says, I will go and see if I can get equipment to help get you out. Then, a friend comes along and jumps into the hole. The man in the hole yells at him. 'are you crazy, why did you jump down here?'...the friend says, 'because I have been where you are and I know the way out.' I know the way out.

You don' have to travel across country; but you do have to move. I see now that everyone across this great land is under construction. We all need improvement. This is not unique to me. In the end, I am just a girl doing the best she can on the days God gives her. In the end, I am just fine.

http://youtu.be/MPMuxpDNSn8

Day Twenty: Rounding Second

I leave Nashville as I found it; happy and excited. I am now headed to Canton, Georgia to visit with my sister and her family. Louie and I are so proficient in our travels that I worry what will happen to this new found talent if it is not excersised regularly. This next stop is a bit of a cheat; I am just not ready to go home yet. If there is one thing I have learned from this trip it is to stay moving and I am worried everything will come to a halt when I drive onto 626 D. Highland Rd.

When we arrive at my sister's house it is a surprise to her kids and that makes me happy. They like me and love Louie so we are instantly a hit. They ask me very little about my trip and a lot about what topping I would like on my Sundae, some IPAD game. It is as if I never went anywhere and is as gounding as the hardwood floor in Louisville.

Our college girl, Catherine, comes to eat dinner and I pretend it is just because I am there but those steaks look pretty good and I fear are big compitition.

My sister and I drink red wine and chat and those are always the best times. I remember why I am leaning further and further away from moving away and more towards just finding a better situation near by. You can't underestimate the power of debriefing with your sister over a bottle of wine.

Nicholas and victoria get ready for bed then come for their good night kisses and hugs and backrubs. They will sllep sound. I try to remember the last backrub I had.

In the morning I can hear my travel alarm going off a floor away. I leap up and chase it downstairs and for the first time realize my road trip is over. I have no reason to get out the atlas and contemplate todays route; no reason to rush to the lobby for coffee and no reason to charge the phone or camera. This makes me sad; so I go back to bed.

Recipes: Red wine and perfectly grilled steak.

Roadtips: All must come to an an end.

Renovations: Whatever you do, keep moving.

Day Nineteen: Nashville, Here we Come!

I was looking forward to this day and the comfort of my friend Wynn for a while. If you run into Charlie Rich you can tell him you have seen the most beautiful girl in the world once you have seen Wynn. And the least of her beauty lies in her dark knowing eyes or her welcome to my porch smile; which are both stunning. No her beauty lies in her heart beats and the music in her soul. I arrive in Nashville from Louisville quickly and am happy about that.

My friend lives in a big blue house built of at the turn of the century, the last one, not this one. And it is positively therapeutic. We first take her two dogs, Darla and Sheva, and Louie on a walk in Shelby park so they can get acquainted. Us humans are overly cautious and the dogs are overly friendly toward one another.

We return to the house and relax on the deck surrounded by our stories of the years we have missed and the memories of the years we shared. There is something deeply satisfying about being in the company of a friend you have not seen in years and realizing she is everything you remember. Time has not taken her wit or sincerity and the visit is like donning your favorite sweater in winter.

I re-meet her kids. Eden was last seen at age 6ish and Julian was 2ish.  We were headed to see Cindy in the mountains and Julian got sick in the back seat and kept saying things like "this is dis-custing". All grown up they welcome me with a well raised hand shake and conversation.

We drink Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey on the front porch and hand out candy to the single teen moms and their babies, and talk about the ways that are wrong in the world.  The smell of homemade chili fills the air and eventually, our bellies.

Eden leaves for a party and checks in every hour as promised. Julian and his friend return from trick r treating and his friends mom comes over to pick him up. She is Wynn's friend so she is interested in what I have to say and gives me a warm hug when she leaves.

We switch to wine and as such the conversation mellows. If is nice and if it never ended I wouldn't mind.

She puts me in an upstairs bedroom on a soft futon and makes a bed for Louis. He is beside himself. I am asleep in minutes. In the morning I turn the car toward home.

Recipes: Fireball Whiskey and a brisk Fall night mixed with the echos of a childhood friend fill the soul.

Roadtrips: There are no miles or years between true friends.

Renovations: That doesn't mean you have to let years and miles get between you.

Days Seventeen and Eighteen: Food, Drink, Food, History, Food

When I wake on day seventeen Louie is in my face. He is enjoying this great equalizer of sharing the hard wood floor. Anne makes some wonderful espresso and waffles with Greek yogurt and honey and there is no way this day isn't going to be perfect.

Anne loves her hometown and is very rich in the history of it and in that regard she is the ideal host. Once we head out for the day I feel like I should be taking notes. Louisville is very easy to navigate; or is it that I have traveled 6,000 miles without a hitch? And, it is very storied. We enjoy lunch at Blue Dog Bakery....

...and by enjoy I mean I will be dreaming about this meal for days to come; not knowing of course what was to come this evening.

We tour the galleries at 21C and see the free parts of the Louisville Slugger Museum. 

And Anne allows me one picture of her outside the Children's Science Museum to document the visit was actually with her.

We head back to her house and nap it up in preparation for our evening out. Well, she naps and I watch PBS on the love seat. 

Our evening out starts of a cocktail at Seviche, I have something with London in the title and cucumbers in the glass. I perfect summer drink only it is not summer. Then we head to Jack Fry's where I positively, from top to bottom, have the best meal of my life, with exception of having to pay for it myself.  The atmosphere is unpretentious and provides the kind of service that happens completely without you knowing. You just always seem to have everything you need. We start with the Country Pate` and Pinot Nior. It is delicious, and it is a childhood liverwurst sandwich with better mustard all at the same time. I can't possible decide on my entree so I stall with the Warm Fig Salad with Lime Creme Fraiche Dressing. For the duration of eating it I am the happiest I have ever been! There are jerky type bits of prosciutto and wonderful peppery arugala and I am mournful when it is gone. 

When the waiter arrives again to take our order for the entree I tell him I can't decide so just leave it in his hands. I should have started with this plan. With another glass of wine he brings me lovely seared Ahi tuna atop a bed of spinach and I am kicking myself for not bringing my camera. I can only eat half and am not entirely sure if in this type of establishment you are allowed to ask for a to go box but there is no way I am leaving the other half behind. 

After paying out the ass over a pear cognac, we head out to our next adventure. It is the Saturday before Halloween so there are strange costumed people everywhere; as opposed to just strange people. There are a few establishments along Bardstown Road that we check out but since we are not 24 we move off this main drag and happen upon a bar that has full on Karaoke belting. A couple of Noe Whiskeys and we are seated for the entertainment. It appears everyone is dressed as their favorite rock star, except us. Tom Petty is singing now and Chaka Khan is in the wings. The Blues Brothers are the organizers. It is all highly entertaining and exhausting at the same time. When it is time to go, we can't get a cab. The place is closing and encouraging us to leave but everyone on Bardstown Road is stealing our cabs. Finally The Blues Brothers offer to take us home in their large white van with strange tools all over the floor. Well, this is not the way I thought I would go, I think to myself. But, they end up being completely harmless and in a hurry to get home to their wives. I really never knew setting up and tearing down Karaoke could be a career but these two are making it one. 

The next morning becomes afternoon before we are really up and functioning. Day eighteen is more about recovering from the food coma then the walk to Cherokee Park...

...though the walk was lovely.

I try to find Blue Dog Bakery for some bread to bring to my next stop, Nashville and my dear friend Wynn, but they aren't opened on Sunday and Monday therefore no deliveries to all the places in Louisville that sell it so I settle in for as good a night sleep as one can get on the wood floor in the animal room. In the morning I sneak a thank you gift into Anne's cupboard and Louie and I leave as unceremoniously as we arrived. 

Recipes:  When in doubt, leave it up to the professionals.

Roadtrips: Amazing Food on Bardstown Road and really fun characters off Bardstown Road.

Renovations: Every once in a while, LIVE TO EAT!

Day Sixteen: The Longest Day

We set on on day sixteen with the end mark of Louisville where my friend Anne will put up with us for a couple days; this was my most ambitious millage gain of the journey. It turns out the Western part of Kansas is beautiful and holds the most vibrant colors of the leaf season so far.

I think about how Kansas is that kid in school that everyone says is boring and no one ever wants to go to their house because it is out in the middle of no where and is beige; but that is just because no one has ever taken the time to get to know them. I vow to always get to know the Kansas' of the world. Not only are the Flint Hills beautiful but the Wizard also makes wine.

Kansas City is the longest city to drive through; you are never quite sure when you are done or when you are in which state, Kansas or Missouri. Once confirmed that we are in Missouri we haul it as half our day is gone but only a third of our miles. Darkness has arrived when we hit St. Louis and there is a half second reminder of what is going on in the world when we pass Busch Stadium at the start of Game 7. I am in fast moving traffic with Spaghetti Junction like overpasses coming at me and going away from me. But I am determined to get a picture. The camera sits on the passenger side at the ready at all times but sometimes it is stuck on movie mode and this is one of those times.

My friend Anne calls and she could care less that I just passed Busch Stadium at the start of game 7. Her and her gay Mennonite clinical psychologist friend Christopher chat nothing back and forth with me until mercifully my gas light comes on. They started drinking wine hours before.

The last fill up gets me to Louisville only after Illinois and Indiana give us little trouble but a slower speed limit.

Once I arrive at Anne's she shows me to the animal room and lets me know this is where I will be staying. OK, well at least it isn't $89.99. After an hour of messing with the broken air mattress I make my bed on the hardwood floor among the floats of her dog and cats long black hair. I briefly wonder why I wasn't offered the love seat in the living room but I am too tired to care at this point.

Recipes: I can't remember if we ate this day or not to be honest with you...

Roadtrips: Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky...that was quite a stretch!

Renovations: Just when you think you are too good for the floor; you are reminded you are not!