The In-between
A bridge is set before you… with a million variables hanging in the balance. There are questions you want answered first, statistics you want provided, a clear path, an incomprehensible understanding, a knowledge you can not possess. You would settle for someone to come along side you and tell you everything will be alright. Those words come and go and your worries go unsolved. You are unsure of yourself, but completely aware of the nagging feeling deep inside, that if you don’t try now… you’ll never know. You will come to regret what you don’t try. You found this path on your own, yet along the way there were a few people pointing you in the right direction, and many that told you to turn back. Now you stand in front of a daunting, long ambiguous bridge… and knowing your goal to reach the other side you reluctantly take the first step. It wasn’t as hard as you thought, and you wonder why you spent so long debating your approach to ascend over mid-air. It’s liberating, and freeing, and you wonder why you didn’t start sooner!
The bridge is made of rope with wooden planks woven in to place your feet upon. The newly found sense of adventure keeps you and your thoughts sailing through the clouds, celebrating your escape from the other side. How horrible it was there. How different it feels to be in the air and above the troubles you used to hold so close. So you walk, freeing yourself with each step. You are letting go of the past, and getting closer to your destination with every step.
You are somewhere in the middle, almost to the other side! That’s when you start to realize, that under your foot you have narrowly missed stepping where plank used to be and almost plummeted to the bottom, a long ways down and too far to see. How clumpy you could have been, to never think of looking down. And everything that holds you up, sinks down with that missed attempt at your hopes. You know you should count your blessing and move on, don’t let anything hold you back. But the path looks much harder now. It’s almost exhausting. You step forward this time clinging to the ropes you hold in your hands as your sole support… ropes which you now notice are worn thin and frail. I wonder if the ones who worn down this bridge made it across to the other side. But there is no way to tell, no way to know.
All you know now is you’re afraid to go forward and too far in to go back.
This is the in-between…
The go to guide for the homesick Seattlite
In the South it does a strange thing when it’s about to storm – The sky becomes overcast, the weather settles to an eerie silence, broken only by an occasional gust of wind. Which seems out of place because of the unusually warm temperature, indicating the humidity is high, the clouds are full, and it’s about to rain!
For a few days now we could feel a “storm” brewing as the air remained hot and the sky grey. I’d bundle up to go outside expecting a cold autumn day from a quick glance out the window, only to find I didn’t even need a jacket! Which of course is breaking the cardinal northwesterner rule #1: Never leave the house with out a jacket.
Three days and I was waiting… finally the pay off came! I awoke late – my fir
st sign, the sun wasn’t in the sky. Then I hear it… beautiful, glorious… rain! I felt the excitement rise in me as I savored this familiar sound of home. Step one in a two-step process to relieve homesickness - complete! I knew what I had to do next. I picked up my friend (also from Seattle) from class so we could go to Starbucks! Our home away from home.
My mom and I founded the adage a long time ago, to cure homesickness: wait for a rainy day and go sit at Starbucks. I first came across this remedy when I was living in Europe and after several months abroad I started to feel homesick. I found a beautiful Starbucks in Heidelberg, Germany which I sat in for hour to help ease the pain. My mom discovered this to be true when she moved 2,800 miles away from home, and needed some familiar un-southern comfort.
Near me is a beautiful and particularly homey Starbucks, with giant pictures of the Pikes Place Market plastered across the walls. I can sit and watch the rain and home at the same time. I love it! It’s larger than most and geared towards college students as they caters to all their studying needs.
I choose for us a pumpkin spice latte, and as our drink is being made my excitement starts to grow. I bring the drink over to my friend and begin to split it, “If you ask for whip on the side they give you a whole extra cup of it here! I figured that out a when I was here with my mom.” I said. I mention how the other day I was here and they gave me my drink for free. My friend wasn’t in the mood for coffee today, but I insist on giving out at least a sample, “you’ll really like it.” “Mmm” I exclaim as I take the first few sips from the warm red holiday cup, “This barista here today is the best! The other ones aren’t as good, he makes all the drinks just right!” “How do you know this?” my friend says in a shocked tone, “How many times have you gone here?!”
I start wracking my brain and begin envisioning all the times I’ve frequented this coffee shop in the past few weeks I’ve been here. I was shocked myself when I thought about it. I actually usually never drink coffee at all, or even believe in being dependant on a drink to get you through the day or lift your mood. I thought back through all the times and started to explain myself, “Well… it started out because I needed to use the internet and it’s free so I’d get something and then use it for hours, that was when I was looking for a place… and then I don’t know, I liked it here, and I missed home and…. a lot ok! I’ve been here a lot!” Jeez, give a girl a break! Turns out I’ve been homesick a lot. :/
The Past
I have examined the past before, gone over every detail of it’s massive categories labeled “what If” and taken into account each piece of the evidence bit by bit. It’s someplace we need to go for understanding, it is a way of learning, it’s insight through 20/20 vision. But that’s all it is… and I can’t go there anymore.
If we had known in the past that our actions would eventually cause such deep reflection, insight and regret, I doubt we would have made those choices. Yet because the past is set in stone, we can only look back and speculate that “the other road” was the better choice - there is no evidence to prove it would have changed the outcome. Only a thought or a dream that given the chance, you would change history and the fates design, with the knowledge you have now. The adage that we can learn from the past, sometimes becomes the excuse to obsess over it’s hidden nooks and crannies, searching for answers we can’t have.
Living in the past helped me learn, it caused me to realize why I came to regret the dicisions I made. But I can’t go there anymore, I can’t stay where I was, I can’t be tied up anymore by it’s perpetual spinning ransom hung over my emotions. I’ve been thinking about the future… have dreams about the present… if only I could escape the past. And I’ve come to the realization… someday - right now will be the past, and I might look back and come to regret how I spent a whole year of my life just regretting, and not living.
That’s one of the main reasons I moved. I didn’t want to live where there was a reminder on every corner, everywhere I turn. I couldn’t escape my thoughts. It is why I gave away everything with strings attached to the past. I didn’t know it at the time, I just knew I had to do it and as I gave away each thing, it felt like another string was cut. The subtle feeling grew as my possessions left - they no longer held me to the memories I once kept them for. I spent all this time sentimentally holding on, when I should have been letting go.
The real things we keep about the past- we hold in our hearts. We can hold on to the good memories, and treasure them forever. But I want to leave the rest behind, and call today the first step into the future…
Moving day 3: You’re not from around here are you?
A few hours of sleep, that felt like no sleep at all, a continental breakfast, and a hot shower later and we are once again packing and rearranging my car. At night the guitar and our bags must be taken in, not only for theft protection, but because the car has a convertible top with two rips, one on either side which unfortunately cause it to let the elements in and invites others to test if it can keep them out. It’s been stolen before. Outside my last house- another good reason why I should move. They started it with a screw driver, and ruined my ignition which my brother had to replace when they eventually found it. Having your car stolen is a memorable event, but not one that you ever want to repeat. So to avoid this we ask if we can park right outside the front desk where they can keep an eye on it. This also eliminated unloading the giant suitcase on top of the trunk which I had no idea how I would get back on.
The only hard part comes when I’m repacking the small space in the car. The car is so small, that if it isn’t packed meticulously it could cause hours of discomfort, which eventually lead to irritability which leads to unhappy driver and passenger which may cause fighting… it’s a snowballing situation! It’s effects have a heavy aftermath. So I spend the time to pack the bags, the guitar and all the miscellaneous items in just the right places.
We were expecting today to go much smoother. After our initial setbacks the first day, we thought we had caught up the second day and even with a slightly late start we were still optimistic we would reach our next destination in time for a late dinner. We were wrong.
As the road stretched on for miles and miles with beautiful country in Wyoming that contained almost nothing… we started to wonder if this road would ever end. We kept looking on the map, for some reason it was taking hours more than expected. We made only two short stops, the first was at Little America WY, where we picked up a couple of beers (rootbeers), used the facilities, bought a post card to prove we’d been there and kept going.
The second was later in the afternoon at a Love’s truck stop. The looks people gave us and the continual staring did not stop from the time we arrived until after we had already left the parking lot. Ok, now I know we may look a little unusual, our car is ridiculously small and a sports car (we didn’t see many others on the road - ok maybe we didn’t see any others on the road in WY) and we have it loaded down in a hill billy fashion…. but really?! Maybe it was the almost matching pink princess hats -ok I have two baseball caps I use as fishing hats that happen to say princess! But when you’re in a convertible you need the hats, either to keep the wind out, shield you from the sun, or keep you warm! So I let my mom borrow one, and I wear the other. But still, I didn’t think even all that was enough to cause the reaction we received! The entire way through the line at Subway, on the way to and from the restroom, and the whole time we were eating our meal. What was with these people? Didn’t they know starring, gawking, and strange looks are considered rude!
As we walked out to our car aware that we were still be followed by several sets of eyes, I turned to my mom and said… “they don’t get many of our kind around here.” “What? Out of towners?” “No… women! – Lets go!”
We hit the road again, dealing with the dilemma of wear to stay and how far we could get as the time started to approach the inconvenient hours for housing guests. I have a friend in Cheyenne WY, and we have family friends in Monument, CO. By the time we reached Cheyenne it was late, we were tired, and for me it didn’t even seem optional to go on. Yet, something inside us kept pushing us. It feels like on this trip we have a full force wind coming against us. The reaction for which can either be to bunker down and wait it out or press on full force against the wind. With extra time not being an option we continued on the extra 3 1/2 hours not knowing if we now had a place to stay because of the time we would be arriving. We decided it was worth it and we would stay in a hotel along the way. A call to our family friends to let them know our plan generated a split second decision by my mom to join her friend on a 5 mile hike early the next morning at 6am. We spent the night at their house so mom could get up early to go on the hike with them!
We arrived in the last minutes before midnight, counting our blessing that we had a bed and went right to sleep because mom would have an early start the next day!
Moving day two: The state race (‘Bama or Bust!)
The State Race!
Tuesday morning and we are saying goodbye after a wonderful visit with family. Everyone gathers outside the front door to make sure they can get a good look in the daylight, at the spectical that is our tiny car which should have a sign on top declearing oversized load. Instead my aunt decides to paint a sign across the back of the car proclaiming “Alabama or Bust!”. But alas the car is to small to fit the word Alabama, so the next best thing to those who have lived in Alabama—”Bama or Bust!” So pictures were taken, gifts were given (fresh Washington apples and apple cider Mmm), fairwells were said, and we hit the road around 10:00am.
We knew we needed to get as far as possible today after our set backs yesterday, and that we needed to be prepared for the unexpected! My mom is on leave from her job in Alabama, and needs to be back “inside the store” by October 22nd. I have been talking back and forth with an employer about a job possibility for more than a few weeks and want to get down there to interview. Plus, I have been suppressing this fear that something will happen or go wrong and I’ll be so close to home that it will only make sense to turn around go back! I want to get as far away as possible, so if/when something does happen I will have to fix it and move forward.
So we press on, making a quick stop somewhere along the Oregon trail, to eat our sack lunches my aunt made for us, and enjoy what we can of a beautiful sunny day. Check our email at the information center and my mom decides to pick up free literature about the Oregon trail – I don’t know where she is thinking we can put it in our car! As we head out on the road, and look through the brochures, we recall when I was 6 years old and my mom took us to walk the Sesquicentennial of the Oregon Trail. We felt this time as if we could relate to those pioneers in another light, as they gave up everything they knew at the promise of the start of a brand new life. We now know what it feels like to throw the sewing machine out because there is no room in our “wagon”, and we carry the feeling that we better get across country before the weather gets too cold. Only this time we are headed east instead of west.
We make it to the border of Idaho in time for an early dinner and we make time to meet up with a friend I haven’t seen since the 7th grade! 
There is a lot of catching up to do and pretty soon it was almost dark! My friend offered to let us stay, but we wanted to press on and get as far as possible.
We stopped again in Boise near the University and found a Starbucks open late!! It was geared toward college students for studying and had a unique set up with lots of space. We took a break and my mom sipped tea while I order a latte. My Uncle had given us the advice the night before, not to stop someplace just because we had a place to stay, but “keep going as far as you can until you can’t go anymore.” I took the late night Starbucks and my Uncles words as a sign! I knew we had to keep driving.
Not too much later I took over driving, as we passed through miles of road construction and mountains. 
Hours into the night, it’s hard to see anything, or imagine how so many roads could be under construction! We would love to stop, we’d love to sleep! But something about the eerie cold wind and empty feeling on the highway’s of Utah push me to keep going, until it’s too late to stop… there is nothing ahead for miles upon miles. A biting cold wind keeps ripping in through the canopy as we stuff blankets behind our heads and all around us to keep warm.
When we finally reach the welcome to Wyoming sign, it’s like a beacon of hope, with the promise of civilization and a bed ahead! I pulled up to the hotel check in around 5 in the morning, and ask the clerk how much for a room. He starts to give me one price, I look at him with an exsauhted face and he gives me a lower price. I’ve been driving since 10 yesterday morning I tell him!
So we made it to a hotel at 5 in the morning and 5 states later!
Moving day one: Expect the unexpected
Moving day one: Expect the unexpected
The young man at the counter was so engrossed in his texting that he barely noticed, as I waited patiently for him to take my money. Finally he looked up while finishing the last of his important message, “$35 on pump thre
e.” I said. “Pump three, the red car?” he said looking out the window to insure I had selected the right pump, and then quickly did a double take. “Wow!” he said with amazement “It’s really loaded down!” His curious eyes eluded he was seeking some explanation. I wanted to defend myself, I was sensitive about the slight spectacle of my tiny car and its overflowing language.
It was rather clever how we managed to fit the reminisce of our belongings in a car with two seats, little leg room, and a trunk with a spare tire in the back making it difficult to hold even a small box. I can’t take any credit for the way the suit cases were stuffed in. The night before our planned departure date, my mom and friend went out to the garage and somehow came up with the idea to fit my mom’s small suit case, our tent and two sleeping bags and flash light in the trunk! The next day my dad brought a ratchet tie down strap and a couple bungee cords, and we hoisted up my suitcase and strapped it down to the top of the truck. Behind our heads is a small shelf where I put my coats, keyboard and my guitar.
I know it looked funny, and I would have explained to him as he waited with a raised eyebrow, that I was moving across the county, and I gave away almost everything I own, and that’s all I’m taking with me. Maybe then he would be impressed with me, and not think I was just a girl who couldn’t live with out her shoes for the weekend. But after three extra hours added on to our trip, sitting in an unmoving traffic jam across the mountains, and holding extra bags, purses and the need to go to the bathroom, my only reply was “yeah, it is”.
Song for the day:
A New Pen…
There are moments when we find our life is similar to an empty journal with blank pages, waiting for a pen so you can start writing in it…
I have a brand new journal at home, it’s not an ordinary bound book, it’s a “Travel Journal” uniquely deigned to hold stories of trips and adventure. It remains blank to this day with a shelf life of over a year on my bookshelf. It’s not that I haven’t traveled since I purchased it; it’s that none of my travels seems to be the right place to begin.
Today was set aside for driving my mother to see two of her very close friends, whom she has known and loved most of her life. As friendships go, there may be a long gap between the last time you saw each other, but it never seems to discourage closeness. And as we sit down for tea with my mother’s friend, there are a lot of questions to close that gap, starting with “Why Alabama?!” We slowly begin to tell the story of how almost exactly a year ago my mom, a native north westerner, drove down to Alabama, in a move that surprised us all. We talked about how my mom has been in the northwest visiting and helping me move. We mentioned my plan to to move to Nashville, TN to be closer to my mom, find work and pursue music at the same time. We explained that perhaps a friend put it best when he said we are “marooned” at this point in our journey. With all our life given or packed away, we are finally moved out of my place (where I spent the majority of my time in my responsible adult phase) and now waiting. Our local jobs have ended and our new jobs are awaiting our arrival, and we are stuck, somewhere in-between past and future.
A new life is waiting for us there, if only we could get to it.
At the end of the visit, my mom’s friend gave me a beautiful new pen. While I immediately appreciated the unexpected gift and accepted it with enthusiasm, it wasn’t until later I realized it held a certain significance. My life is like that blank journal, and I’m waiting on the resources to make my trip and a pen to start writing a new life… and someone just gave me a pen, so maybe the rest is going to follow soon. I will finally get a chance to fill in my “travel journal” with a perfect place to begin.
