Thursday, August 13


I could rant and rave again. There was enough shit going down tonight that I would have plenty of material. But through the tears of exhaustion and frustration (yes, there are real tears) I could be that person that when pushed into the pool flails and splashes and hollers but instead I'm going to sink to the bottom and see how beutiful the stars are through the water.

I love driving in the country, especially at night. I take every opportunity I can to drive the county roads back from deliveries.

I've always had a bit of wanderlust. I probably got it from my parents. I remember them taking long drives at night with me and my sister in the backseat of the Colt. The seats smelled like old french fries and I could feel the waxy film of melted crayons when I lay down in the middle (a privelage me and my sister mercilessly fought over until finally we agreed to share some uncomfortable reverse-spooning arrangement). While we were in North Carolina we would drive past a Krispy Kreme (before they were a national chain and always had hot donuts) and hope that there were hot donuts. If there were we'd almost always stop for a dozen. The box would be so hot that it would burn my lap, but we still didn't wait to try to eat them.

In highschool I spent a summer where my then-boyfriend was away at Morman Church Camp. I kept my teenage hormones in check by driving back and forth from my town to two towns down. Sometimes I'd take a turn onto a County Road at random. Those roads are some of the roads I drive with familiarity now, but at the time they were random, they were dark, they were mystious and peaceful. I had no idea where I'd end up. I would spend hours parked on one particular low-water crossing. It's still my favorite place though I lost it for a while and it didn't dawn on me until months after I started delivering that this was the place, the magical place where my mind is at peace.

I have several such low-water crossings now. When I'm feeling overwhelmed I hop in the car and drive the backroads. I look at the black silhoette of trees, the glimmer of moonlight off a nearly dry creek, the flash of movement when I startle a rabbit. It all calls to me. It all makes me want to forsake humanity and wander the woods.

At the same time, the driving helps me sort through all of that. I leave it all on the road. I am in a place with no judgment or anxiety. A calm peaceful place. If there's someone with me, it's because I want them to be and I trust them to see me that vulnerable.

This job has given me an opportunity to gain familiarity with the roads that I love most, to learn their twists and bends. They are old friends that I trust to be there in the middle of the night. I am grateful for that because at night I'm able to immerse myself in the indescribable beauty around me over and over again. To still be in awe of the familiar is...

1 comment:

SJ_Edwards said...

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost, June 1922.