A lot of my childhood memories involve the open road. Being on it. Going to places with the family because the Coach's work took him places. I don't always remember the factual details of those travels. Was I eight? Or was I ten? Was it early morning before the sun came up ? Or was it dark because the day was almost over? Were we in California? Or were we in New Mexico? But what I do remember was the intensity of feeling I had in certain moments.
Like this one.
I'm sitting in a diner booth with my family, checking out a laminated menu. I look up and out the window and see a long, long stretch of road gleaming in the twilight, and suddenly, because I'm in an unfamiliar place deciding what I want to eat, I feel homesick. Isolated. Disconnected from my real life back in Provo where I have a dog and friends and my own room. The road outside feels oddly menacing--something designed to bring into my life a whole big world that might change what I think I know.
The feeling passed. But sometimes when I'm on the road now, the memory of that moment travels with me.
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1 comment:
incredible visual...
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