wanderlust
Sometimes, the wanderlust hits me. Often it's when the seasons change, something in nature makes me want to evolve, to move, to transform. Sometimes it's brought on by a song. A good road song or an aural memory can take my mind away and try to make my feet follow. Sometimes it just sneaks into the car and when I get to an intersection whispers, "turn left" when I should turn right.
I spent some time traveling the roads in my car as a younger woman. I remember how I felt stopping at a rest stop in Pennsylvania, knowing that none of the people in the world who knew and cared about me had a clue where I was at that moment. I remember sitting and eating lunch on a bench at Mt. Rushmore, while the wind made the flag whip back and forth in the breeze. I remember mountain biking on trails in McDonald County, MO, where strange plants and bugs and sounds made me feel like I was in a completely different world. I remember the trucker at a rest stop in New Mexico giving me advice about how to avoid the upcoming snow storm by taking a smaller road north and staying off the freeway.
I remember the books I read - Kerouac's On The Road, Steinbeck's Travels with Charley, Edward Abbey, John Milton, DH Laurence. I remember the music I listened to. The soundtrack to the movie 1969 took me down the Al-Can. Sister Christian over and over as Night Ranger auto-repeats. Grateful Dead and Bonnie Raitt were always there. I see the Rocky Mountains, from Montana down into Colorado in my head when I hear Bonnie. Nat King Cole took me from New York to Missouri to New Mexico, getting my kicks on Route 66.
Today I could have filled the truck up with gas, grabbed a cup of coffee and a Ruby Red Squirt and taken off for parts unknown. I don't know what was in the air, but as easily as I can take a deep breath, I could have headed down the road. But I have my children, and my house, and my dogs, all of which I love. And when Bob comes home, he'll be returning here, to Fairbanks and I want to be waiting.
So I stay put, my road trip is home to town and back. I can crank up some tunes and remember. But some day, I'm going to load up my truck with my kids and dogs and lover and head down the road. No plan, no agenda, no timeline. Letting the wind and the road and the whim steer the course. Someday.
I spent some time traveling the roads in my car as a younger woman. I remember how I felt stopping at a rest stop in Pennsylvania, knowing that none of the people in the world who knew and cared about me had a clue where I was at that moment. I remember sitting and eating lunch on a bench at Mt. Rushmore, while the wind made the flag whip back and forth in the breeze. I remember mountain biking on trails in McDonald County, MO, where strange plants and bugs and sounds made me feel like I was in a completely different world. I remember the trucker at a rest stop in New Mexico giving me advice about how to avoid the upcoming snow storm by taking a smaller road north and staying off the freeway.
I remember the books I read - Kerouac's On The Road, Steinbeck's Travels with Charley, Edward Abbey, John Milton, DH Laurence. I remember the music I listened to. The soundtrack to the movie 1969 took me down the Al-Can. Sister Christian over and over as Night Ranger auto-repeats. Grateful Dead and Bonnie Raitt were always there. I see the Rocky Mountains, from Montana down into Colorado in my head when I hear Bonnie. Nat King Cole took me from New York to Missouri to New Mexico, getting my kicks on Route 66.
Today I could have filled the truck up with gas, grabbed a cup of coffee and a Ruby Red Squirt and taken off for parts unknown. I don't know what was in the air, but as easily as I can take a deep breath, I could have headed down the road. But I have my children, and my house, and my dogs, all of which I love. And when Bob comes home, he'll be returning here, to Fairbanks and I want to be waiting.
So I stay put, my road trip is home to town and back. I can crank up some tunes and remember. But some day, I'm going to load up my truck with my kids and dogs and lover and head down the road. No plan, no agenda, no timeline. Letting the wind and the road and the whim steer the course. Someday.
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