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"Power lines, my travlin' partner on this ride. Dripping, pulling - up and down, in this sing song, their lullaby blends with the swaying train. I curl myself into this journey; folding myself up into this pocket of time. Old familiars greet me - that swing set in the back yard, the ruins of an old church covered in new birth and old - mixed with unremembered newness." Journal Entry, October 13, 2005~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~All words are copyrighted by GoGo on a Page/gogoroku.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Sunday Scribbling: Puzzled

I am about to collect myself again and hit the road. I’m not talking about the trip to the beach tomorrow, a last minute attempt to meet water and sand under winter’s view. A humbling experience of touching the ice formed at the edge of that Great Lake with trepidation’s feet and gingered thoughts before stepping backwards toward the safety of snow covered sand. I’m not talking about that trip.

I’m talking about trying once more to head out onto the long road out of town and out of State, collecting a friend and traveling outwards. My body saturated with routine living, feels weighted down by this daily grind. I look forward to that illicit movement, freeing me from all this complacent devotion to school. It’s a puzzle I have lasted this long.

I think I got this traveling bug from my grandmother - mother’s side. Throughout my childhood she moved from apartment to house, house to trailer, trailer to apartment and round again. She preferred the existence of small town living, but there is something between us that relates. Movement. The fun part about grandmama, was that by her 3rd husband, she realized that though she loved him, she really preferred to live by herself. So two love birds, traveled in twos their homes becoming bookends to loving each other. Seriously, when grandmama moved, grandpa R moved along with her, except he took the trailer across the way or the apartment next door. This behavior puzzled folks, but not me. I got what love was from this.

I also got the travel bug and I need movement soon, except I prefer short trips out then back again. I cannot wait to hit the road. I cannot wait to collect my friend and take a week to head down to NC to see friends and the ocean. There’s something about picking up, heading out, only to come back again. The road opens me like no other place. Home has new dimensions in its corners when I return. Time re-calibrates when traveling. Sometimes I like to go just so I can come back home. A puzzling statement?




One week and counting.
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This was my interpretation of this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt: puzzled.

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6 Comments:

Blogger twitches said...

I don't have the traveling jones, but this post helps me understand those who do.

9:17 AM, February 25, 2007  
Blogger paris parfait said...

Beautifully-written piece, from one writer gripped by wanderlust to another! And I think your grandparents might have been on to something. Many women I know think it would be wonderful to have their husband/man around for four or five days/nights and have the rest of the time on their own. :)

9:45 AM, February 25, 2007  
Blogger Kamsin said...

I remember hearing a song ages ago which was about someone returning home after travels it had the line "can't wait to go away and come home again". My feet are currently itching for some place new, and I only got home about 3 weeks ago!

10:13 AM, February 25, 2007  
Blogger Tammy said...

I love this wonderfully written post and I envy your inherited travel bug. Love is wonderful in any form, you go Gogo ;)

3:41 PM, February 25, 2007  
Blogger gautami tripathy said...

Not bad, you have this travelling bug. This way you learn about people, places first hand. Glad for you. You go, gogo!

10:48 AM, February 26, 2007  
Blogger Kimberley McGill said...

HI! I'm new to blogging and to Sunday Scribblings. I loved the story about your grandmother! I can relate to the need to get on the move - my favorite thing is a road trip to ANYWHERE. I think there must be gypsy blood in some of us.

5:49 PM, March 02, 2007  

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