I wipe the sweat off my forehead and head to the fridge for some iced tea. I grab some honey to add to my drink, and as I am putting it away in my cabinet, a bottle on another shelf catches my eye. I shrug, grab the bottle and add some whiskey to my tea as well.
Nearly all my belongings are packed and in storage. I just need to sort out a few more items in the kitchen, and then I am hitting the road.
It's been one week since I ended things with Marco and three days since I had my last day of work at the antique shop. When I haven't been able to sell items from my apartment, I have spent my time filling up donation boxes or trash bins. I am leaving nearly everything behind and starting fresh.
I think I have been ready for this for a while. Even though I have been in this apartment since I moved out of my mother's place at eighteen years old, I had little in the way of material items and I haven't had attachments to things in some time. Hence, I was able to pack up the past five years of my life in about a week's time.
By tomorrow morning, I'll be in another state.
It doesn't matter where I'm off to, as long as I'm continuing forward. I'm not terribly confident in my travel plans...or my bank account, but I am sure I can land on my feet somehow.
Where there's a will, there's a way and all that.
So with myself, a few belongings and about five thousand dollars, I got into my 4Runner and hit the road.
…
Day six of this road trip that has no actual destination. After leaving Florida, I had headed west along the coast. I passed the Florida border, gave it a middle finger to the state in my rear view mirror, and continued driving down the I-10.
After crossing the Mississippi River, I decided to spend four days in New Orleans. While I'm not a stranger to the humidity of the south, New Orleans offers many other things I haven't experienced.
Like the French Quarter, for one. The voodoo shops and graveyards were full of new thrills as well. I might have spent two days in an absinthe-induced haze. In the random flashes I have, the live jazz was worth remembering.
Since I spent the last two years working at an antique shop in Florida, looking for old oddities has become a pastime of mine. So I made sure to check out a couple of thrift stores and museums in the city as well.
On the fifth day, the pull of the driver's seat and the call of rubber tires was loud enough to convince me to get back on the road.
From there, I turned north and followed the Mississippi River. The scenic byway led me past Memphis, and I am just north of there now preparing to make camp at a state park. I had my fun and let loose in New Orleans, so it's time to start roughing it. My bank account is only going to get me so far, so until I know my destination, I need to be as thrifty as possible.
It's November, so even though the temperatures are dropping, I can stay warm enough for me to be able to explore the park comfortably. Back in Florida, it would essentially still feel like summer this time of the year. And I'm finally leaving it behind for more seasons and real weather.
I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring.
I can do this as long as I can stay spirited, and to do that, I need to be able to find the silver lining and value in all things. We sometimes underestimate the influence of little things. I hope I never get tired of the night sky, of thunderstorms, of the sound of the wind in the grass and waking up with a cup of warm coffee in the outdoors. I hope I never grow to be someone who can longer see the small, but beautiful, things.
I think this will be really good for me. No, getting out of the stagnancy was good for me. This is going to be great, I can feel it.
…
Well, contrary to my belief, things are not going great. It's day 37 of this poorly-thought-out-yet-life-altering trip, and I've spent the last 25 days of it bartending and living in a cabin out in Mackinaw City, Michigan.
During the second week of my trip, just as the Great Lakes were coming into view, my car started to make a loud whining noise. I was driving through a forested area and was about 30 minutes south of Mackinaw City, so I had the car towed from there. Just in time too, because as I was pulling off the road, the whining turned into a banshee scream before finally sputtering out.
The tow truck driver recommended a repair shop, so he took me and the 4Runner to a place that gave me the bad news. The car needed nearly $2,300 in repairs! At that point, that was about half of what was left in my bank account.
I knew the bill was going to set me behind, so I found a bar that was hiring within a short distance from a campground that has cabins for rent. This way I can save in gas and lodging, while replenishing my bank account.
I can't complain about the location, either.
The town is located on Lake Michigan and between the wilderness, hiking trails, swimming spots and historic landmarks - I'm in awe.
There's a special type of magic here.
I could see this as a place where I can settle down and stay awhile. I could put down some roots, and live in bliss.
Though I owe it to myself to keep going and to see what else is out there before settling on the first thing that interests me. On top of that, for some reason, it doesn't feel like the right time to stay here.
I'm currently at the edge of an overlook where you can see three of the Great Lakes. I'm sitting on top of what looks like a column made from layers of rock about six feet high. The drop, though, looks to be over fifty feet high.
The water below spans so far it almost looks to be an ocean. The top of the water is calm and looks to be a rich shade of blue that fades into an almost light teal color as it nears the shore. The colors are so vibrant, that it feels to be full of life. Almost like I can feel energy radiating off of it in waves. It's rejuvenating to look at, and the breeze is light and refreshing.
I feel alive here.
But I also feel detached, and sometimes even lonely.
I left my mother in Florida, but she hasn't been my mother in some time. Three years ago she had an accident and lost her memory. She hit her head on the tile floor in the kitchen, and her brain was bleeding. I found her lying on the dirty floor when I came over for dinner. The kitchen wasn't that dirty before, she must have been doing something when she fell and hit her head, but we don't know what.
The doctors told me that she would not recover her memories, but I spent the next year working with her to try and get her to remember me anyway.
However, in her mind, she wasn't a mother... and didn't want to start to be one now. I still kept in touch though. I would visit for a meal every week, then after several cancellations we talked over the phone every so often, which then turned into her emailing me once a month. But even that became less frequent. She hasn't responded to one of my emails in over six months.
For a while, it was painful having a mother who had forgotten you and didn't want to remember. Every so often this phantom pain will still hurt me, but I'm not bothered by it so much anymore.
I take one last deep breath before I stand up and brush the dirt off my shorts. It's time to start heading back so I can get ready for work.
Today is New Year's Eve, and I am spending it alone, but I am doing so while I am on the new path I have set myself on. I don't want to live the same life, and in the same way, year after year. That's not really living.
Every sunrise is a new chapter of life waiting to be written - and it is up to me to fill those pages with every small, but beautiful, thing I can experience.
There is a magic in new beginnings that is truly one of the most powerful forces found in life.