Something about hauling your whole life across three spacious and craggy states changes your state of mind. Not only do you leave behind your culture and half of who you know, you are alone watching the landscape change and the hours tick by with nary a soul to entertain you. The road is its own kind of desolation, different even from solo treks through the eager and staunch wilderness trail. It pulls you across the slate of this world like the hand of an old elementary school teacher, wise and arthritic, teaching you how to be alone and patient.
Today, while I drove down a short stretch of highway to the local coffee roastery, I found within my core the desire to drive past my exit, drive north and keep driving through the horizon until I couldn’t drive anymore. I landed in Walla Walla a week ago and my heart hasn’t yet accepted the fact this is our final stop on our long, four-day journey from Roswell, NM to Washington state. “You must keep sailing,” my heart says, “the wind is strong, your sail is taught. Keep sailing, young man, keep sailing.”
“Someday, dear heart, someday.” I reply, “But today I must stay put. I must stay put and write. And as I write, the worlds I write will have to be sufficient.”