If I am left alone for any length of time, I fall apart. I don't know how it happened...but the road got ahold of my heart, my soul, my everything. My days have turned to mush, these slippery messes of minutes and hours where I'm doing things. Making quick work of our tiny kitchen after meals because we've had the practice, wiping out the toothpaste in the bathroom sink, walking load after load of laundry up and down the stairs, writing out my goals for the coming year and working, bit by bit, on them. Yet there is no purpose in any of it. I feel nothing. The same tasks, albeit differently accomplished, while out on the road gave me purpose, made me feel strangely alive. I'm questioning everything - why rooms must have certain elements to make them rooms, why we feel that we are successful based on our money, our accomplishments, our creative endeavors, our following, how 930 square feet can feel too big, if the world exists outside this living room window of mine, or if it has disappeared now that I cannot be out in it.
I break down when I hear the songs we played on the stretches of road to and from Alaska, yet sometimes I put them on just so I can cry for what is lost. I didn't think I wanted it...yet all I know is the road now, what it can give me, teach me, and show me. I am trying to bend, trying to see the good, find some sort of opportunity in where we are, but my heart is elsewhere, and the longing for what was deepens and strengthens every second. I am heartbroken, like I lost the love of my life to the harshest death.
I am remembering so much now, the scent of Peter and Kate's home in Portland, the balmy eve on their porch drinking wine and talking into the darkness, singing in the rain with Dan and Ellen - we were hardly practiced, but it didn't matter. We were in Alaska, surrounded by the sea, the mountains, the glaciers and their tumbling waterfalls. The night where we gathered in Oregon and made paella over the fire and drank and rejoiced our good fortune as travelers, the way the air felt walking along the boardwalk in Astoria, or the blissful warmth of the ocean at summer's end, naked babies running in the waves with me.