In Topeka, prostrated in a well-air-conditioned cheap motel along I-70. Damn hot, following the theme of the last several days. 108. The Element is doing okay, but the A/C isn’t running real cool, so Vesta and I were glad to get here after a long, sweaty day on the road.
Rolling out of Kentucky and across Indiana, nothing much happened. I pondered important life details such as, "gee, the skin on my neck is getting a little wrinkly," while passing small towns named Santa Claus and Poseyville. Crossing Illinois, as the heat index and my caffeine level rose, my thoughts began to run further amok. I watched them and let them go alright. Return to Portland, to work, to eking out a living, is on my mind, and though I still have some fun destinations ahead of me, I’m well on my westward way. The month that once seemed it would stretch on utopian-forever, is nearing a close. It’s been fantastic, truly luxurious, to have this time to recalibrate my center. Amorphous ideas and musings I have pondered along the way have begun to come into clearer form and focus, and for me, that’s the most precious gift that travel can bring.
At this point, perhaps fueled by time on the east coast, I feel myself a bit more sharply. It’s as though this time away from the soft west coast has sharpened the blade that is me. And let’s see how I feel once things have settled back in at home, Portland home, but right now what I feel is this: I seek more challenge in my life. New learning. Maybe a graduate degree (gasp! Don’t hold me to this one, folks), maybe taking the reins of fiscal responsibility a bit more wisely (serious thoughts on retirement plans and health plans), and smaller changes, too.
Crossed that big Mississippi again with a view of the St. Louis Arch. In Missouri I passed a van filled with rosy-cheeked boys in baseball caps, strapping midwestern kids, and worried for them when I read the side of the vehicle: "Transporting the future of America’s Armed Forces." Tuned into a country music station for a spell, and sat back with it like a local in a pickup truck. Though those songs leave little room for imagination, their lack of obliquity or agenda matched the plodding, flat landscape, and brought me some refreshing reassurance as I drove through Kansas City and into Topeka.
Thanks for your many calls, dear ones. They’re coming at just the right time. It feels good to know you miss me, and are thinking of me, since today was a bit lonely. I love love love you.
Time now for some dinner. There’s a Steak n’Shake across the street, a greasy midwestern delight waiting to be had. And a cool bedroom, and deep sleep I hope, and an early start for my long drive to the Rocky Mountains, where friends are waiting, and cooler, drier air, and some new lightness once again.
