Home again. I wasn't intending to be gone for so long, but I got lost. Kinda Sorta Lost.
The morning's list was quite clear: go to Curves, walk, clean master bath and bedroom, start laundry, go to grocery store and then the arboretum to pick up my phone right where I left it at the end of my volunteer shift in the bookstore yesterday. All that progressed smoothly, but then I made a wrong turn, quite literally.
Last evening I asked Bruce to load the guest room chair into my car, for my plan was to take it to a charming store in a little town that has become a favorite of ours. The store's owner creates slipcovers from vintage fabrics, and I decided that would be a great way to use some of the 40's and 50's tablecloths from my large collection. (See my Feb. 15, 2010 post.) Off I went, not consulting a map, for I was sure I knew the way, even though I wasn't taking the usual route. Various farmhouses looked familiar, and I remembered being on the route more than once, but when I approached the town of Oregon, instead of Verona, I knew I had made a wrong turn somewhere. I should have turned right onto M, instead of left. Oh well, I can get there from here, I told myself.
I got out a map and was grateful I know how to read maps, thanks to my Dad. The summer before my 6th grade year my family drove from our home in Mankato, MN, to Rapid City, South Dakota, to visit friends and to see the sights along the way -- the Badlands and Wall Drug and Mt Rushmore. Before Dad turned on the ignition, he passed the map to me, sitting behind him in the back seat and said, "Get us there." At least that is the way I remember it. I know he knew how to get us there without any help from me, but I became the Chief Navigator for that trip. Not only did I acquire a valuable skill, but my self-confidence grew. By learning how to get there from here, he nudged me towards independence and the ability to take care of myself.
Ok, all I needed to do was continue on MM to CC and take a right and that would take me right into Paoli, but somehow I missed Paoli --yes, it is that small--and found myself no longer on CC, but now on D and I was going more south than west and I wanted to be going west, and I had been driving more than the 3 miles indicated on the map. I could have pulled into the nearest farm driveway to consult the map again or I could have used my map app on my iPhone or I could have turned around and retraced my steps, but I continued onward. I knew eventually I would get somewhere and then I would know where I was. I felt myself relax into the beauties of the day. After all, I had a full tank of gas, a cold Diet Coke, a fresh bag of red licorice, my phone, and most of all I had time--and a willingness to be kinda sorta lost.
I rolled down my windows and opened the sunroof and exchanged the music of Hayden and Bach for the symphony of windsong, conducted by gracefully bending tree branches. I passed stately farmhouses with wide porches and wondered what it would be like to live there. I prayed the people there were happy and content. I waved to a woman wearing a straw hat, working in her garden, and I prayed for a good growing season. I spotted hawks--one, two, three--and my heart soared with them, reminding myself to remember the bigger view when I become attached to one route. I slowed down as I approached a biker who had stopped and raised his binoculars. What was he seeing that I was missing? I glanced at the empty passenger seat and thought about the many in my life who would be excellent companions on this ramble. I recalled other relaxed days of wandering, grateful that is something Bruce and I do best. What a luxurious life I have.
Eventually, I found the desired destination, and the trip home after dropping off the chair was without detours, planned or unplanned. Now what? Well, I could do this or I could do that or that or that, but instead I felt like wandering a bit more. Wandering with words. I decided to write a new post for this blog, but I had no idea what my topic would be. That has been happening lately--the desire to write drives the topic rather than the topic leading the way. Sometimes I get kinda sorta lost as I attempt to find my way, but I go along for the ride, anticipating new sights and new ways to get to my destination. Kinda Sorta.