A Journal of Movement
It’s part of every traveler’s journey, we get stranded. It’s never what you want and rarely exactly what you expect. We run aground. Sometimes it’s as easy as jumping in knee deep water and pushing off again, other times you’ve got to wait till the tide changes. Occasionally, but not often, the ship breaks up and you’re cast adrift.
Sometimes you have weeks to plan, others you’ve just got minutes to pack. No matter what, when the time comes, the hammer falls, and you’re out the door. As ready as I thought I was leaving Leavenworth was still a shock. Amos made the journey down by plane and showed up with his bike, the lease was up, and a hard frost stifled any attempts at gleaning a last few days with the families that made Washington feel like home. The road sucked us in and knocked me off my feet before I knew what hit me.
As much as we all want to leave a room in tears of laughter, departures are a hard art to master. In my short life I’ve had a lot of practice leaving, but it still feels fresh and awkward every time. We’re here in Boise, resting with friends and preparing to set off on the next leg. I’d like to think I’ve got a few words of introspection to share with you after the experience of leaving Washington and our week of travel but if you’re short on time I’ll cut to the chase – it might just boil down to this: Welp – Big Gulps huh? See ya later! Continue reading “Departures”