Channel the Yoda

Friday, November 5, 2010

A Compulsive "Road Trip" Travelers Beginning

It was the last day of summer break; 1995 and the day before my sophomore year of high school.

I planned to spend the whole day locked in my bedroom writing horrible poetry, sulking in my pillow and reading smutty books.

Only good news--I HAD MY LEARNERS PERMIT! Good news for me. Bad news for the world.

My father had a conference in Duluth that day. He wanted me to go.

I growled, "Busy." If I didn’t sulk for a good 3 hours it’s like my day wasn’t complete and his stupid conference was not going to get in the way of that.

"We can get Chili Dogs," he coerced with a loopy grin on his face.

"Not hungry," I replied

His face went rigid. I froze. That is not a look I disobey. I've seen squirrels drop dead from that look.

"Whoosh!" That was me, out the door and buckled into the passenger seat. And there I waited with a crabby gaze plastered on my face.

Crack! I woke from my self-deprecating slump to see my father standing outside my window.

"You're driving."

Shocked I slid over to the driver’s seat.

I can't drive to Duluth! Last week I just made it to 55 mph without hyperventilating. The week before I freaked out during a Y turn and ended up in the ditch.

But I just shrugged. Cause I'm cool.

"You need to practice long distance driving," He states buckling his seat belt.

Once I was 4-Wheeling around a field and fell into a hole. Another time while mowing figure 8's into the lawn I lost control and drove into the ditch. Yes, long distance driving is exactly what I need to work on.

And so I did. With a two hour drive in silence. Not even a grunt. It was like a standoff except there was no draw and Clint Eastwood himself wouldn’t have incited a discussion between us.

I remember crossing the bridge to Duluth. AMAZING! Lake Superior— beautiful. Lift bridge— awesome. Boats— a dream of mine. Even if it’s a big, smelly oil rig, I don’t care, I want it…!

My father yanks the wheel suddenly. "Eyes on the road!" he barks. I tend to drive where I look. Hence so many ditches.

I attended the conference. I listened. I nodded politely. I have no idea what it was about.

Afterwards my father dragged me to get food. A Burger King set next to Lake Superior on Canal Street. He sat on a bench to eat while I hopped from rock to rock. Finally I stopped. Sat. Stared.

Gentle waves crashed into my rock. The lake and sky meeting so effortlessly that they melted into one. And for 20 minutes I didn't think. I didn't worry. Obsess. Pick. Scowl. Growl. Feel some sort of anger. Or even rage. I just ate my fries and breathed.

It felt good. I felt good.

I drove us back. Calmly I might add. Dad pretended to fall asleep. I know it was pretend because I was totally looking at the fall leaves on the trees and drove into the ditch. He quickly yanked the wheel again and growled.

We made it back alive. And my father, with all his concern for my long distance driving skills, actually instilled a lifetime desire of road trips and a deep appreciation for the crashing waves of Lake Superior.

So, thanks.

I still drive where I look though. But I’m working on it. Swear.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Hit the Road (Trip) Jack!

Large coffee.
Quick stretch outside.
I'm off.
Blurry-eyed.
It's early.
14 hours to go.

I know this stretch.
Wisconsin to Minnesota.
I live this stretch.
Sip coffee. Eat a banana.

And 494! Smelly bridge.
Morning show on the radio.

Pee Break!
Coffee refill.
Gas up.
Stretch.
People stare.
I don't care.

Am I in Iowa yet?
Was there a Welcome sign?
Why won't you welcome me?!
Oh. There it is.
Zoom.

No cruise control.
No worries.
No air conditioning.
It is 82 degrees.
No worries.
That's what the windows are for...

Windmills!
Des Moines

No map.
No worries.
I have directions.
I have no idea how far away I am.
Where is Nebraska?
Am I close?
No worries.
It smells like toast and jam outside.

Why does it smell like toast and jam?!
Ouch! My eye!
My hair whipped it
Cause my windows are down
It is 86 degrees.

Nebraska!
Almost.
Council Bluffs. So close!
It still smells like toast and jam.

Ugh. I'm so sweaty.
Eat a sandwich.
Peanut Butter and Jelly.
I packed it last night.
THE CHOCOLATE BAR MELTED!
All over my hand.
88 degrees.

97.7 Spanish Radio Station
Coffee Break!
Quick run.
My shirt is covered in sweat.

Oooooooooomaha!
Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiincoln!
Pee break.
Rolling hills.
Still toast and jam!
Oops, it's my shampoo.
I showered.

6 hours in.
Flat.
Cows.
Windmills.
Gas up.
Pee break.
Beef jerky.
Gas up.
Pee break.
Cows. Cows. Fields.
"Wait, wait, Don't Tell Me"
SUNBURN!

Freaking sunburn.
Half my face.
Left arm.
Left thigh.
90 degrees.

I have melded to my seat.
Talking to my car.
Talking to myself.
Talking to the trees.
Yelling at Nebraska.
Am I close?
Close to the border?
Is there a border?
Why didn't I bring a map?
9 hours in.

Phone Call!
Roll up window to hear.
Suffocate.
End call.
Alone again.
With my thoughts.
Blank.

Colorado!
I must be close.
Denver!
What? Over 3 hours?!
But.
Desert tundra.
Empty highway.
Gas up.
Pee break.
82 degrees.

Sunset.
Twinkling lights.
From afar.
Eat a sandwich.
Windows rolled up.

Windows rolled down.
Final Stretch.
Finaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal countdown!
Am I there?
Am I there yet?
How about now?
Now?
Ah! Stop it.

13 hours.
I see it! An ending.
I’m a tad sad.
It’s hard to let go.

I’m here! This is it!
Outta the car.
Run. Run little girl!
Stretch. Breathe.
Look up. Look down.
All around.
Cool.

Okay. I’m ready.
Where now?

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Landing Gear

An ending happens
A new start begins

Change…

And a word
Introduced
First time

Freedom!

Washes over my
Young
Grieving soul

I grab it.
A sudden yank
I’m high into air

Overwhelmed
Exhilarated
By this new life
That could be mine

But which life?
Choose one.
I don’t know.
What if
I choose
Wrong?

The wrong space
Wrong place
Wrong house
Wrong mate
Wrong state

So I stay.
Suspended.
Waiting I guess
For the right answer
Finding all that freedom
More stifling
More confusing

Then
19 years
Of being
Stuck
With a
Thumb
Over
My
Head.

I dreamed
I wished
With my child heart
A future
Beaming
Plum full
Possibilities

So ready to get away
No focus on where
Or why
How
What?

Just away.

I hop
Skip
Jump
No roots can find me.
I never plant
Yet I hover
Float
Over
The place
I always
Wanted
To leave

Fed up
With my
Indecision
I make
A choice
A split second
Over
An Amaretto Sour

To Land
To try
My feet come down
Skidding to the ground
And there it is
The future.

In Spanish
Southern Hemisphere
But corresponding
Latitude Lines
New friends
New life
New HOME.

Period.

Then semi-colon
Comma
Run on sentence

And I’m flying back
Where?
No specific place
Swear.

Cause I’ve got freedom Baby!
Eleven years of freedom
My adult life
Stuck in hover mode
Never committing

Lost in a void
Dreamless
Goalless
Dullness
Spilling out
Crying for home

A home base
I believe
Is the answer

I
Search loudly
Make
Decisions boldly

But silently
My eyes twitched
Fingers tapped
Nails chewed
Sleep lost to
Frustation
Which
Quietly set in

But
I'm stubborn.

I'm going to land
Fully
No run on sentence
It is set
It is Real
Now

The car packed
Apartment found
Life planned
Future
Far away
Future
In a state
Future
14 hours away

And I sobbed

My legs came down
My feet skidded
To the ground

And I landed
Not Realizing
It happened
I looked around
Familiar sounds

Angry
ANGRY!
No
Not it!

Cause I landed
Where I began

I heard music
Bright lights
Dancing
Laughter

A feeling
Of warmth
Spreading
Through
My void
My heart
My twitching
Eye

It flooded
My anger
Quickly diluting
Shock-Confusion-Disgust

Painful
Memories
Of a
Childhood
Washed
Clean
Years away
Understanding
A comprehensin
To the pain

As a smile
Fills my face
Because I finally
Found
My place