Open Roads

Like clockwork, I woke up at 7:19 this morning. Had the opportunity to sleep in and enjoy a lazy Sunday morning, but a certain heart connection knew better. Only moments before I awakened from my sleep and dreams, my ex-husband packed his car, gassed up, and set out on his long journey to his new home in New York.

It registered immediately that today is the day, and so I called to remind him to drive safely, that he's in no hurry and doesn't need to speed, to enjoy the drive, to stop at a few of my favorite roadside attractions. It's his first road-trip across the United States, and his longest road-trip ever. It makes me smile...

He grew up in Tel Aviv, and the entire span of his country is probably only 7 or 8 hours. I remember visiting him there years ago, and he took me to the southernmost city of Israel, a town called Eilat. It sat on the shores of the Red Sea, with Jordan clearly visible from the beaches, and the Sinai Peninsula only minutes away. On that trip, he complained of the long drive through the desert - which only took maybe 4 or 5 hours. It was a regular vacation spot for him and his family, and the drive was boring and uneventful for him. I, on the other hand, was spellbound. I remembered a Bible I had been given as a child that had photographs of many of the ancient places described in the scriptures, and now I was seeing them for myself. I remember, on the road to the Dead Sea, huge mountains of salt, as the desert roads wound down further and further to that lowest place on earth. I remember Bedouins and camels, villages carved into rocky cliffs, the forest-like trees of Jerusalem. Almost every picture of me there has my mouth hanging open in awe and wonder.

I grew up on the road, in part. My father and his second wife traveled the Renaissance Festival circuit, selling their art of pressed floral arrangements between glass. We would make trips every year to Texas, Arizona, Maryland. In the summer, we had a booth at the Bristol Renaissance Faire, on the border of Wisconsin and Illinois, and much closer to home than many of the others. We would make that 7-hour trek each weekend for the 2 1/2-month run of the show, and it was considered to be a "quick trip." Indeed, I remember my first solo road-trip was driving to Bristol in a Mazda pick-up truck, only a few months after I got my license. I'll remember that trip forever - I was thrilled, and felt so happy and free. The road held infinite possibilities: it could take me home, or absolutely anywhere. I could just keep driving. I could even lose the map, and just keep truckin'. I felt like a real gypsy.

I love road trips, and regret it's been so long since I've made one. For many years, my best friend and I would make trips out to the National Rainbow Gatherings for a few weeks in the summer. She lives in New York, and I'm in the midwest, so it would be our special time together... traveling down new roads, into beautiful National Parks all over the country, camping and living off the land. It's been too many years since we've made that trip. Every time we've missed it, we've vowed to make it the following year, but life gets busy and in the way of our plans. We have become more sedentary (much to the dismay of our youthful ambitions!).

Thinking about it now, I'm a little envious of my ex. What a perfectly beautiful day to set off down the highway, en route to a new life, a new adventure. A new country he's never traveled, with vast expanses of open land - quite different from the small-but-mighty country of Israel. Not that he's a stranger to travel, mind you, as he's been to well over 25 countries around the world. He lived in India for almost a year, traveling south to north, into Tibet and Nepal. I don't know if the landscape on this journey will prove as moving or interesting, but I'm sure it will move him in some way...

I've traveled the American highways so much in my life, that it's become somewhat ordinary in my mind. But if I think back, I can easily remember the beauty of Texas Bluebonnets blooming in spring; or Saguaro cacti towering over us in Arizona; or the brilliant red cliffs we climbed in Utah. Any place seen for the first time has its wonders. No doubt, he will discover many on the way. Even more so, is the feeling behind it - that he is setting off on an unknown adventure to the east coast and New York City... dreaming and wondering of what awaits him there.

I confess, I was a little sad to wake up and know that my good friend is no longer nearby. To know it may be a very long time til I see him again. To really feel that last binding thread has broken, and we are now in every sense independent of each other. My eyes water with tears for a moment, and then I'm smiling again - it's bittersweet. I know we will both miss each other, but we are also both excited to be starting new chapters in our lives.

Some people think of relationships as two roads that merge together as one. I've always seen it differently: I see it as two roads running parallel to each other, for whatever stretch of time or distance. Some people enjoy moving forward in the same direction for years and lifetimes. Others detour. I guess that's what happened with us. But I'm grateful, and take great comfort in knowing that there remains a third path - the road between us - which will forever remain open, and look forward to the days when we might make small journeys towards each other, with each other, as friends, again.