Rolling over, I answer my phone to tune of my mother’s voice. We said some words I do not recall and I rolled over and writhed in pain after our goodbye. While filming on Sunday, I wrecked pretty bad and my knee is not keen on the matter. After limping downstairs, I sat motionless in our recliner and stared without focus at the television. My mind raced and my heart ached so I packed a few belongings, locked the door and left Syracuse. Route 81 has become all-too familiar, but I still find escape in its tar and stone composed path. My gas light emitted orange just as the journey began, but my foot never twitched. I am far too proud to play things safe, so onward I sped, in search of an escape to be met.
In McGraw, I found myself over drafting my bank account for fifteen dollars of gasoline. My throat was dry, so I scraped together some spare change and made an iced coffee my breakfast. The Operation, Mumford and Sons, and Kyle Adem sang as miles passed and cares fell to the wayside. When I have no money, I feel as if the entire world knows such, so I often try to prove them wrong. I did this by nursing my stomach with some delicious food from Los Tapatios in Vestal, New York. Alone, I shuffled to my booth as the audience paused their conversations to look my way. I felt oddly out-of-place as I stretched my legs in the giant booth made for at least four to enjoy. A small error proved to be beneficial on my end and my delightful meal increased in size.
Full stomach and all, I made my escape to the south. I crossed the state line and exhaled with deep relief, as would a fugitive in my place. The winding roads led me to a small church in Forest Lake, Pennsylvania. Vultures circled the steeple and I forgot to depress the trigger as I got lost in their grace. As I snapped my last photo of the church, a light rain spoke to my tired face. I sheltered the camera beneath my shirt as I limped back to the cover of my car. The heavens opened and the raindrops played my windshield like a war drum. As I pulled onto my south-bound path, this song played while my Ipod relaxed in shuffle mode. In an orchestrated way, a sudden strong wind blew the dying leaves like a blanket over my car. Through the once blurry glass, now wiped clear, I saw beauty as no cinematographer could ever capture. Time slowed down as I drove through the funeral procession of the dead leaves. How glorious was their exit to graves of timeless decay!
The ride home continued to leave my lips restlessly singing praise. My car now parked in a half-filled driveway, I’ve returned to the house of my childhood. On a normal day, I am greeted by about one hundred dogs, today there were just two. These two darlings paint countless smiles on my face day in and day out. The remainder of my day was spent cuddling with my dogs and listening to the rain. For a bit of time, I sat on our porch in a rocking chair and watched the lightning etch greatness in the sky. The close-following thunder shook oak and bone to the very roots that solidify their existence. Thunder storms are among my favorites and on this night, that did not change. I sat rocking back and forth, hoping someday our hearts to align and our hands intertwine. Rain so strong, then washed away my fears and planted hope as my soul harvested the mountain air for the coming cold season. The love for her I hold so dearly, may not be mine in this season, but I was told love is patient, kind and strong. The power of thunder so sovereign, broke my thoughts and as I smiled in the midst of it’s glory, I stood to my feet.
Pain of limb could not be sung for emptiness of heart was slowly undone.
With a single sigh I whispered: “A night so majestic; this day so beautiful.”