I felt like Lewis and Clark traveling in a sedan caravan.
I suppose what I remember most about my first excursion this year was that endless stretch of Ohio that bleeds into Pennsylvania – the precipice between the hills that age and become mountains when you cross the border. It’s like watching the evolution of nature with each mile. These memories are at the crux of every road trip. You have the enthusiasm at the get go, then the reward at the end. The middle – that’s where the magic is.
I find myself thinking about these middles a lot more than what bookend them. I think that’s what I like most about traveling – getting there. There’s nothing more than getting to lay your eyes on things you haven’t seen before. Sometimes it’s boring (ie: cornfields) or exhilarating (ie: the Appalachians). I constantly find myself in awe that I’m actually doing it, escaping from my house and making a future for myself. When I was younger, I don’t think I afforded myself that kind of freedom in my head. I had my own restraints. I honestly didn’t think I was going anywhere – nor did I really know I had the power to.
I guess that’s why I do it now. That’s why I’ve been to so many different states (and one other country) in this past year. I’m making up for lost time. I want to experience it now, not wait for some other time that I don’t know that I have. I understand how that may sound morose, but it’s true. I constantly feel I’m working against a clock.
I feel I’ve woven a pretty nice tapestry: Baltimore, D.C., New York City (x2), Albany, Buffalo, Urbana-Champaign, Bloomington, Iowa City, Toronto, Minneapolis (x3), Madison, and Memphis. The problem with this is that I haven’t gone that far West of the Mississippi, but I’m working to rectify that as early as January.
You’ve been a part of these memories – reading, encouraging, experiencing with, filling in the blanks.
Coloring in between my lines.