A road trip close to home
A quiet day. Light rain. A good day for a mini artist date. But what to do? Where to go? A mini-road trip around home.
I know the roads where I grew up and I know the roads where I now live, but the 30 minute drive in between is a bit vague.
The best way to imprint the map of an unknown place is to explore those roads without worry of getting lost. In fact, getting lost helps you stitch it all back together in your head. So I dropped the daughter off at the day camp and wound my way home as the crow flies, as the saying goes. Or took the milk route. Wandered off the beaten path. Took the scenic route. Took the long way around as well as the long way home. Aghm…
I digress.
I stopped in at dad’s first. One of us has a green bean situation in our garden, the other has a cucumber situation. Either not enough or too many. After the swap, I headed toward home, but this time I took the side roads, the lesser concessions, the roads I knew the start of but wasn’t sure where they would end up.
A geographic metaphor of life itself.
I drove through tiny hamlets called Fishers Glen and St. Williams, Forestville and Port Ryerse. I drove by the winery I knew from concerts attended, but this time I approached it from a different angle. I spotted the restaurant overlooking the marsh they say is good but I was always unsure of the location. Came across my uncle’s driveway, too, but from the other way. Normandale, the beach they talk about. Low and behold. There it is. All these places I pretended to know when people spoke of them. Here they were all along. Waiting for me.
I’ve been in such a rush all this time. Rush to drop off, to pick up, to get home, to arrive on time.
I drove by the house of an old sweetheart. His parents still live there. They had us over this past spring for the maple syrup run. He had flown home from far away, hence the visit. He and his wife. Me and my husband. All of us gathered in the sugar shack, either catching up or getting to know each other through the sweet steam.
Apologies for the euphemism.
That day in spring, we went out to the barn to look at the truck. THE truck. The truck we drove around in before we headed our separate ways at the end of our summer romance. The truck was stored under a tarp for 30 years. “Wouldn’t take much to start ‘er up again,” he said.
You got that right. (Not apologizing this time.)
That visit helped. I didn’t know it at the time, or even that help was wanted, needed or required, but it was there all the same and it was welcome.
I slowed down as I went by the house again. Would have stopped in if anyone were outside. Would have grabbed the cucumbers off the passenger seat, explained the glut, used it as an excuse to stand on the same driveway of way back when.
But no one was outside and it was raining anyhow so I drove on.
I drove by the churches where I first learned hymns. Someone is still looking after those old timeworn halls. No weeds but no flowers either. I still recall the smell of those old hymnals and can hardly make it through a rendition of Old Rugged Cross without wanting to sneeze. Oh those Sunday school mornings. He and I sitting next to each other making friendship bracelets. Tying binds.
Soon, I arrived back on familiar ground—the roads of errand running, adulting, the 60 zones where I push the limit, the four-way stops I might roll through. But this time I took my time. Even went through a glen called Sleepy Hollow, popular with cyclists and curiositists. Stopped at a pioneer cemetery, too. Found original settlers here with their last names being as familiar as a roll call when I was in school.
Walked around another cemetery where I knew some people from school. Not too many, but a few. A few who would probably love take this little road trip down unfamiliar yet familiar roads. And that got me feeling grateful that I had the time and inkling to give myself a little road trip before I was swept back into regularly scheduled life.
Janice
PS The August Cottage Letter is going out this week. This time it features some original art. I think I might make adding original art a regular thing (see angsty request for guidance below). Sign up over at the Etsy shop and I’ll put you on the August list. Use code SUMMERROMANCE10 to get 10% off any letter subscription. Or use this link: https://janicemacleodstudio.etsy.com?coupon=SUMMERROMANCE10
Offer ends when August ends. Just like a perfect summer romance.
Angsty request for guidance:
I waver on adding original art into the packs. I like them, of course. But the priority has always been the literary, juicy letter itself. That was the original plan anyway. Yet I feel compelled to add bits and pieces. Now I wonder if it’s ART with a letter included or a LETTER with art included. Or am I overthinking it? Please advise.
