What will sustain us through the winter?
Where did last years lessons go?
Walk me out into the rain and snow
I dream a highway back to you.
-Gillian Welch
If I'm lucky, Beatrix dozes off on the drive back home from school each day. Treating me to thirty miles of afternoon silence. Thirty miles of thoughts free to flow. Sometimes those thoughts are only lists created and categorized for the different facets of my days. We all have our own versions of them: the grocery lists, bills to pay, people to call, planning for school, thoughts on specific children at school, or my own little one.
Sometimes it's thirty miles for my mind to wonder. Thirty miles for my dreams to peak through the tangible and immediate. Beyond the mundane.
The highway to home is ordinary and, I dare say, hollow. Big box store after box store, strip mall after strip mall, it's easy to lose oneself in its emptiness. Most of the time the radio is off, with the only sound coming from the hum of fellow commuters, trucks, or travelers heading somewhere.
Instead of the traffic hum, today, I chose music. An old Gillian Welch album. My favorite track is the last one: I Dream A Highway. 14 minutes of a longing, poetic, beauty of a tune.
I thought of the empty roads to West Texas and beyond. I thought of the early years of Byron and me. Holding hands while bike riding on humid summer nights, wondering around the streets of Paris, young, exuberant, and all by myself. I dream of Norweigan forest and mountain top views, subways and skyscrappers. My wanderlust soul is always with me.
And then, I hear "Mommy, I want you to sleep with me because I love you." Or something in that vein.
I'm back, here. In this life, in this place, in this time. Playing this role of wife and mother to the best of my ability. Loving this life, cherishing this life, I barely ever imaganined exisisted. Sometimes life really does feel like there is no beginning or end, just a tumbling circle of dreams, of here, of then, of one day.
