Now She's Gone in the Blink of an Eye

I'm feeling very restless.

Stability is great. I normally love stability, but right now I'm twitchy, I'm anxious, I'm jonesing for a trip, a journey, a way out. I know I want a traditional picket-fence life eventually, but not now. Not yet. I want to throw all my stuff in storage and hit the road. I'm not much of a car person but a bike would do nicely.

I want to see Amurrica. Really see it. I want to know more than my bubble. I want to see factories and ghettos and farmland. I want to see landmarks and rivers and woods. I want to see endless stormy skies and braided cornfields and untouched trails and I want to hike them and touch trees and explore towns and not sit at my desk like a girl in decay.

But I can't do this alone. I don't want to get raped or stabbed or killed or lost. I don't need to risk my life to appreciate it. I already do. I mean, odds are, the worst won't happen but ya never know... So then that brings me back to why I want to run in the first place. Am I trying to escape being alone or am I looking to justify my alone-ness. If you're on your own on purpose then at least you're not lonely. Accidental solitude is the worst.

A Weekend Getaway

It’s weird to feel at home when you’re not.

This weekend, a whirlwind trip brought me through Chicago and I ached for everything I gave up.

Waiting on the weather-worn platform to metro into the city, I was transported back to so many summers before. Stifling heat accosted me every time I stepped outdoors, while inside, icy blasts of AC immediately dried sweat in salty, sticky patterns on the back of my neck. This is not just Chicago but it is Chicago and her hellishly hot summer days...

There is a sweet wholesomeness to the Midwest. Everyone talks about the friendly faces and slower pace, but it’s more than that.

In the Midwest, there is a spirit of generosity, of saying “excuse me” when you jostle someone, of putting the damn iPhone away and making eye contact with strangers. This is the land of honey blonde highlights, curly hair with straightened, side-swept bangs, and wide faces pancaked with make-up hiding flaws that barely exist.

On Friday morning, I watched a pretty girl erase herself on the train. With a hand mirror and a battalion of brushes, she powdered and concealed and blushed and transformed herself into another. Somehow, her own insecurities made me feel better about myself. I thought smugly, I don’t need to do that. I’m ok as is.

Turns out a weekend in the Midwest was just the escape I needed.