This journey didn’t start in Richland, WA. This journey started the day my daughter almost died giving birth. Maybe the journey ended for me in Richland and I’m just driving home.
Since that day, almost a year ago, I’ve had to face a lot of Russell. I was in hiding for a lot of it thanks to verse 15 of the Tao: “But the muddiest water clears as it is stilled. And out of that stillness life arises.”
So I was still. I had five months off, so I used it to be still and see what I could find of myself once the waters cleared.
As of this morning, I’ve driven 2300 miles in an old Rambler. And except for a short stretch of it with Vernon, it’s been alone.
I’ve loved it.
I would say I’ve loved every mile, but that wouldn’t be true. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I’ve loved every mile EXCEPT the two lanes at night when oncoming drivers fail to dim their brights and I’m going around a curve.
I like my company and covet the quiet times when I can just be alone with my thoughts. Or my thoughts and my dog. Or my thoughts, my dog, and a glass of wine. Or my thoughts, my dog, a glass of wine, and a cigar. Or...well, this could go on for awhile.
But now I’m a day from home and my grandson’s calling is louder than the road’s.
After coffee with Laurie Ezzell Brown this morning, I’ll start heading north. Although I enjoy being alone, I’m lucky to have people I love all over, and she is one of them.
I still have photos and stories to tell and it will take a few days for me to catch up with them all.
But thanks for riding along with me and we must do this again soon.
I'm just a guy who finds the world an interesting place and likes to capture certain moments with a camera. They aren't for sale, or anything. I just like them. Well, usually. I've taken a lot of photos I don't like, as well.
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The conversation I would like to hear happening at our southern border: Border Patrol Officer: “Welcome to the United States of America. How may I help you?” Asylum Seeker: “We would like to apply for asylum in this country.” BPO: “Oh, I’m sorry that you felt you had to leave your home and family to do this. Please, come with me and we’ll start the application...."
“Liberté” is how Josef described his life to me, distilling it down to a single word. As he said it a second time, he lifted his hands, palms up, toward the sky and faced the sun, smiling, “Liberté.”
This morning, awakened with a desire to air fry something, I remembered the hash browns I bought when I purchased the Ninja
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