Hitting the road
Life is strange. At least my life is strange. It may be perfectly normal to you, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out. I like that. I need that. I dropped the kids off today and had the rest of the day to myself. For the first time in a long time, I did not have a long list of things that I either wanted or needed to get done. It was just me with me.
Of late, I have been having very vivid dreams. I’m talking about the ones where you wake up and think they really happened. Not just for the first few minutes, but for the first few hours. Not horrific types of things. Just normal REM type sleep where you are sorting the events of the day. It’s just my head gets creative and adjust the events for the fun of it. I think God and Satan are having a good laugh, but hey, if they are having fun, then I am too. Anyway, when my head is this active, it is time to work on sorting it out or feed it something healthy. I opted to feed it and hit the road for a few hours.
I headed to downtown Raleigh with a book. I sat in the park for a while reading while leaning against a tree. There were lots of homeless people around and I started to wonder about them. They all looked normal enough, they were just hanging out. Some were asleep in their sleeping bags, most were just sitting in groups quietly or making small chit chat. In the center of the park was a group getting into a heated argument. I caught myself wondering more and more about each of them and their lives. You know they all had a story to tell as we all do. Then I closed my book and just listened. Then I started to wonder why nobody was sitting under this tree. They were sitting everywhere else. Was I just lucky enough to get this spot or was this the urinal at nighttime. I decided it was time to move on. I started driving home and went past it. Next thing I knew, I was on my way to Durham.
So I make it to Durham. I could not decide where to go and ended up at the Old Tobacco District. I was pleasantly surprised (I had never been there before). It was rather quiet because everything was closed. I was also impressed with the volume of water flowing through this place. It was very serene and I did a rough calculation. If they let all that water flow into Falls Lake, Raleigh and Durham would be set for a while and people could start wasting water legally again. On my little journey today, this was the only time I was by myself. It was more in spirit. If I looked around, I would have been disappointed, but it was slow enough that nobody walked by me. That in conjunction with the fact that the water falls were so loud, I was able to stare into the falls and just be there. I recorded the sounds, but not the image. The lighting was bad, but the sound was perfect.
After a pleasant visit to Durham, I began my return trip, although I am still not ready to go home. The proverbial split in the road was not a life deciding path choice as I wish it had been. I don’t know home many of you saw Disney’s Pocahontas, but when she is going down the river and wants to choose which path to take, the calm river like her Dad wants or the rapids like she wants to do. Well, the choice between US70 or I85N was not nearly as exciting. I also did not have a cutie native American cartoon character next to me. So I chose 70 because of the fun stores to look at along the way. Anyway, as I was enjoying the deep spiritual moment that Durham had brought upon me, I came upon 3 of Durham’s finest and a tow truck. I held the camera up as I drove by and shot from the hip. I had no idea if I would get a picture or not. I guess Karma helped me out here. This poor soul was minding their own business, probably having a self enlightening moment like I was when somebody came up and slapped them in the ass and said ‘Hey, how are you’. Mental note, don’t store camera equipment in my trunk.
I am now about 3-4 hours into our journey of enlightenment. I’m ready to go home, yet I don’t feel like I have fulfilled myself. Driving east on 70, I see the sign for Leesville Road. I love this road. Not only does take me close to my house, but it is one of the few country roads left in northern Wake County. Yes, this part is in Durham I know, but I’m close to the border. If I could just figure out how to ban all the Lance Armstrong wanna bees from hogging these narrow roads, all would be well. I mean if they want to ride, I fully support it, just get the legislature to add a lane for them. I would vote for it. These roads are two narrow and curvy for grown men in skin tight colorful suits to be hogging it. I’ll be honest, if I have to choose between hitting somebody head on coming out of a curve or clipping somebody on a bike riding down a narrow curvy road, guess who I will hit. I carry kids in my backseat normally. Sorry, that rant is for another essay and I am getting riled. It is obvious this trip is not working so far. These perfect roads are not as relaxing as they were 10 years ago.
So I get close to Raleigh again. Well, actually close to my house. I live very close to the Durham city/county line. There is this old house not far from mine. It has seen better days. It was a very pretty house at one time. Many people laughed and cried. People loved and likely hated in this house. You know, I would like to have talked to those homeless people in the park this morning. I really should have. The stories, although they have existed, may not always have somebody to tell them. Just like this old house. Its stories are dying every day. Many are gone and most of the rest will be gone soon. Sad thing is that most people don’t care about the stories. I do.
So I did learn something today. I learned to listen. Whether it be to the homeless to tell their story, or the road clicking under my wheels, or the water falling off a ledge, or the walls of an old abandoned house. There are many stories for those who want to hear them. I need to listen more.
