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
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