This morning finds me in a cheap motel. Bleary eyed, coffee in one hand, hunting and pecking with the other. Today’s slow-start morning, we’re in the middle of eastern Colorado. Where the level terrain stretches to the horizon in every direction. So much so, a Flat-Earther could point to it and ask in righteous exasperation, “See?!”
We are still headed back. Home is a couple days away. Between the vehicle, the scenery, the routes, and company, its been a fine drive. The vehicle is nimble, powerful, and easy on the gas. Handy for blasting past slogging truckers jockeying for position. The scenery: gorgeous, exclamation point. One really gains an appreciation for god-rays when seen illuminating the prairie in swaths measured in square miles. The routes have taken us through pokey little farm communities population a couple dozen to congested aggressive Dallas and everything in between. I’m not for a loss of visions be them man made or by God’s hand, and given time to wonder on each. The company, Granny. She snoozes most the time, but when she’s awake we joke about if the community has hookers or Mormon wives. Ether way, we should stop off and pick me up one. You know, so she can have more great grand children.
The trip has been a splendid break from the norm. As hard as it is to admit, though, I hunger for that norm. There are chores that need doing and a future to build towards. Not much in either case, but enough so that it gnaws at my sense of responsibility. Also there are small rituals and pleasures that, frankly, I miss. Like stomping through the house clad only in undies towards the fridge for another beer chanting, “Guys! Guise! Gais!” I need not explain myself and you need not judge, we both know you have your own silly ritual spoken of only in hushed tones.
The trip is a few days more and, in those few days, I will be returned to my shanty. Refreshed and renewed to continue through the mundane. It’ll be welcome to get back on track.