Eight Years

 It's been eight years since I last saw my dad...but there isn't a day that goes by I don't see him. Every time my computer plays a Marc Antoine song, each day I listen to NPR or watch the Lord of the Rings movies, whenever I pass a large bag of Peanut M&M's or box of Good & Plenty, and always when visiting - either in person or just in memory - the viewing deck of the Eagle River Nature Center, my dads face flashes in through my mind.

It's been eight years since I last heard him speak or laugh, since I last witnessed
him moving - breathing...but he comes to life once more in the stories others tell me. There's my favorite, hearing my mom share just how she met my dad along the trail in the Santa Elena Canyon at Big Bend National Park. There's the story my aunts told me this summer of my dad's dangerous (i.e. stupid) escapades at the Chicago airport when he was in highschool - a tale that makes me both laugh and shake my head in disbelief. And when driving through Wyoming last week I was reminded of the time my dad told me of hunting trip in Wyoming gone awry as he'd accidentally set his truck - and the field it was resting on - on fire. In those stories, and so many others, I hear his voice again and it's almost like he is still alive and with us, even if it's only for a few seconds.

I can't listen to Harry Potter in the car without recalling all the times driving with him we did just that, or hear anyone say the words 'cement' or 'concrete' without mentally checking to see if they used them correctly (something it took him 20 years of constant reminding for me to finally get right), and every day I wear a necklace with the words that one dark October night he said were his greatest wish for me "Follow Your Bliss" . My dad may no longer physically be with us, but that doesn't mean he is gone. He is still with me. Only now as a quiet presence in my mind gently guiding me through life to help me discover and follow my bliss.

I found this poem a year or two before my dad died and still get teary eyed reading it today. One Christmas, or Father's Day, or his birthday - I honestly can't remember - before he passed, I gave it to him framed as a present and he at least pretended to love it enough to hang it on the wall in my parents room. He didn't get to do everything written in this poem but he to my sisters and me he was everything it says and more. I love my dad and I will miss him every single day for the rest of my life. 

What A Dad Will Do For His Daughter

by Cheryl D'Aprix

What a Dad will do for his daughter is rock his sick baby girl
until the sun peeks through the darkness
letting him know the night of worry is over.

He will take her small hand in his and walk slowly as she takes her first
walk to the ice cream shop to share a cone full of heaven on earth.

He will sip from the tiny tea cup she has set in front of him
and in harmony with the stuffed animals carefully placed in their seats
he will sing the praises of her great hospitality.

He will sit through dance recitals and fashion shows
where he is the only audience
and will clap with the enthusiasm of a thousand people.

He will take her fishing and play soccer,
and introduce her to the world outside
as if just experiencing it for the first time himself.
Perhaps he is.

He will sit with her through sweat and tears over homework
that was supposed to be turned in the day before
and he'll smile as they finish, seeing her relief.

He will place a firm hand on the shoulder of the young man that comes
to take her to the school dance
silently letting him know where he stands and what he expects.

He will watch with overflowing pride as his young lady
accepts her high school diploma
and will silently pray to God to calm his fears
and get him throughout the day.

He will be full of conversation and more than happy to listen
when she calls home now and then.
Even when the game of the year is on.

He will gently fold her arm around his
and with all the courage and faith he can hold onto
he will stroll down the aisle,
giving her hand but keeping her youth.

He will be the first one in the maternity ward ,
at the nursery window,
carefully inspecting the activities of his new family member.
Another part of her, another part of him.

He will reassure her as time rages on
and the signs of his old age start to frighten her.

He will caress her hand with a passion
to which she has never felt
as he whispers his last wishes to her.

He will come to her heart for all her life
as she sees his manner in herself
or his features in her children.

He will live in the smiles
that grace her face
as she remembers the things he did for her.

~~~~

Wyoming

I was able to hit the road at a pretty reasonable time this morning and spent the majority of today's eight hour drive crossing through Nebraska. In a way today was like yesterday, but with a twist. Like yesterday, the sun rose with a fierce strength that caused the interior temperature of my car to spike up fast and by early afternoon we were all three more than a little uncomfortable. But it got to the point that I was worried the cats would overheat so I took their blanket out of the kennel, something that ticked Faelina off quite a bit judging by the loud constant yowls of protest she kept up for some time after. Like yesterday, I spent the day singing Brantley Gilbert songs and quoting the lines to Harry Potter but also threw in a couple hours of The Birthday Massacre to mix it up a bit. I made another Starbucks stop in western Nebraska but opted for an iced americano (vs a hot one) hoping it would help cool me off (it didn't but at least it woke me up).

Eastern Nebraska was much like Iowa with mile upon mile of cornfields over flatland, but as I drove further west the terrain slowly transformed. Beginning simply with more scatterings trees after a time those trees turned into miles of untamed woods. The acres of corn began to give way to more farms featuring herds of cows and horses grazing in pastures before the corn all but disappeared and ranches took over. The utter flatness of the land slowly adopted slight hills and dips and then finally at 1:56pm I saw off in the distance real hills. I grinned when I saw them because though only hills they might be I knew them to be a tantalizing promise of what was to come and I just couldn't wait. About 40 minutes later I-80 split and as I kept right to continue west the road rose upwards into those hills and again I had to smile because I knew what those higher elevations were bringing me to. At 4:15pm I said goodbye to Nebraska and crossed the border into the state I had been most excited about getting to visit on this trip - Wyoming. I was born in Evanston and had visited frequently when we lived in Utah but my last visit was at the start of our drive up to Alaska 20 years ago. I swear that the second I crossed that invisible line into the state something inside me clicked and I felt instantly more relaxed - more at peace. It was like I'd been holding my breath for four years and I could now finally let it go, and I think I know why.

Not long after arriving in Maine I started to sense that the underlying energy of life on the east coast was not the same as on the west, the spirit of the land and the people who lived there was different. I've never had the feeling that one is better than the other, instead I think it's simply which spirit and energy matches each individual person best. For me there was no question; when I'm out west my soul sings, out east it's just a muted whisper. I knew I belonged out west, and today I went back there to stay.

I continued down I-80 soaking up the scenery around me and then, almost exactly three hours after I'd first spotted the hills, my eyes alighted on what they had promised. Far off in the distance, beneath soft sunlight clouds, dark blue silhouettes filled the horizon - Mountains. Just as some people need the sea to be truly happy, and others can only find real peace in a desert sunset, I need mountains surrounding me or else I just can't breath right. The lack of them in Maine is the single reason why I could never live there forever and the promise of being near them once more was the most exciting, alluring factor about moving back west. Having those tall constant guardians near again makes me feel safer and more complete than I have in a long time.

I spent the last 30 minutes of my drive today smiling like a fool as the highway wound through the Medicine Bow National Forest all the while bringing me closer to those far off giants. I reached my destination - Laramie - and got us checked in and settled early enough to see the sun set over the Forest's hills from my hotel window. There is a lot about this move that has me scared, nervous, unsure, and doubting of my ability to find success, but right now I am absolutely in love with the spectacularly wondrous place it has brought me to tonight.

A Day in Iowa

I want to start this by saying a HUGE Thank You to my aunt and uncle in Illinois for opening up their home to me and my cats last night, especially since my uncle is allergic to cats and had to spend the night in their basement while my cats took over the main floor. I slept great and woke up completely free of the zombie like trance I'd been in last night. Synge and Faelina had both been nervous when we first got there, but by morning I could tell they both were infinitely less stressed than they had been our first night on the road. In fact, Faelina apparently liked it so much that she decided that we weren't going to leave and climbed inside the batting on the bottom of my mattress and wound herself through the mattress springs. In the end, the only way to extract her was by upending the whole mattress and ripping the batting even more so that I could grab her. This little stunt of hers made it so that I hit the road a little later than I would have liked (well that and my dithering over which hotel to make a reservation at), but finally I had both cats and all of our things in the car. I hugged my aunt and uncle goodbye and set off - with a quick side stop to Starbucks for a Venti 5 shot Americano!

The first few hours I was still in Illinois before crossing the state line into Iowa. As far as I can recall, the last time I'd been in Iowa was on a family road trip when I was eight years old, and I was excited to see it again.Farmland pretty much accompanied me throughout the entirety of the state, mostly crop farms but I did see the occasional herds of black cows too. The sky was clear the whole day and the sun almost relentlessly bright which meant my sunglasses were glued to my face whenever I was on the road. The tint of my glasses made the crops appear as though someone had decided to grow fields of tall bronze shimmering in the sunlight; it was quite lovely. Despite that though, the open flatness of the land combined with scarcity of trees in the eastern part of the state unnerved me. I felt exposed, almost unsafe as result. I managed to distract myself from this by singing along to Brantley Gilbert songs (I just love his voice!) or listening to my most favorite story: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (a gift from from my aunt and uncle!). The sun also heated up the interior of my car quite a bit, making it hot enough to make even Faelina crawl out of her nest of blankets. I tried using the power of positive thinking to make my AC suddenly start working again and not just blow warm air out of the vents; unfortunately I was less than successful.

As late afternoon came around I felt myself growing tired and my left eye started twitching. I took that as a sign that I needed more caffeine but wasn't sure how to go about getting some since I was in an area completely unknown to me. Thankfully just about that time I-80 took me through Des Moines. As I approached one of the many exits for the city a sign listed a mall as one of the attractions for that exit and I though to myself "Where there's a mall there will be Starbucks" and drove down that ramp hoping I was right. I am happy to report that my logic did not fail me and 10 minutes later with coffee in hand I was back on the highway.

After Des Moines the terrain grew a little hillier and more trees surrounded the farms I passed making it feel more like the farms of Maine, although sadly with the glorious wildfire of colors that Maine trees have now (I said goodbye to the last vestiges of that New England wonder in New York). I also drove through a "farm" of wind turbines spinning in such a seemingly slow lackadaisical way it was as if their turning in the air was simply an afterthought. I always marvel at that knowing the power that actually exists behind each turn, and how sudden death would be if I ever - god forbid - got in their way. My caffeine stop had helped perk me up, and stop that obnoxious eye twitch, but I'd been on the road for nine hours at that point and as the sun started setting I was more than ready to be done for the day. I also was reminding of just how annoying it is to be driving west with the setting sun shining right into your eyes. A little later I crossed into Nebraska and reached my hotel in Omaha. The cats and I are happily settled in for the night, and luckily (for me) the beds don't allow cats to hide underneath them so there will be no repeat of this morning tomorrow!

~~~~

I wanted to add to something from yesterdays post, something I couldn't quite find the right words for in my foggy, addled, exhausted brain last night, but was able to clarify in my mind today. I'd written about how lucky I was to have lived in two places I'd truly loved - something many people never experience. I said it had given me hope for what's to come, and while that is true I think the real blessing to that realization is that it has allowed me to refocus my emotions and become less sad about saying goodbye to Maine (or Alaska) and instead celebrate the gift I was given to have lived in such magical places. Whether Utah will be a third such place remains to be seen, but as I said yesterday I have hope.

Roadtrip Moments

I'm now two days into my trek across the country. I came out to frost on my windows this morning so I gave the cats one of my extra fluffy blankets to keep warm. They both burrowed into that happily and while Synge got hot after a couple hours and came out, Faelina spent the whole day hiding inside. 11 1/2 hours on the road (9 1/2 driving) later they are both definitely stressed but they are otherwise healthy and that is most important right now. I feel as though I've become a zombie, but I think that's to be expected and now that I'm actually able to stand and move around again I've recovered somewhat. I stopped for the night in Mundelein, IL to visit with my aunt and uncle. I am writing this with a very foggy mind so please excuse any errors and nonsensical sentences that may appear.

The day took me through five states (and one time zone) and looking back there is a distinct moment or memory of each - mental souvenirs so to speak. Pennsylvania earned the much appreciated distinction of being the only state to not make me pay any tolls, something I've spent a small fortune on in all the others. Ohio was the first place I was actually able to find a Starbucks right off the highway after five hours of fruitless searching. I think there should be some kind of federal law to require those everywhere, everyone travelling all day should at least have a guarantee for quick access to good coffee! I-90 also took me through Cleveland, Ohio, which looks like it would be a fun city to explore someday. Indiana (which happens to be the Faelina's birthplace (not that she would even care) ) had some truly lovely farms. They were surrounded by tall trees whose golden leaves - in the afternoon sun - looked as though Midas himself had touched them . I was reminded of why I could never live in a big city when I found myself driving at a snails pace - on the interstate - through Chicago, although it was nice to see the city and the Sears Tower again.

The best part of the day (other than seeing my aunt and uncle of course!), happened on the outskirts of New York. I'd been following a car for a few minutes before noticing that it had Maine plates, but once I did my mind was instantaneously filled with images and memories of my time there. I succumbed to a wave of homesickness that almost brought forth a few tears but right before they came something happened that stopped their coming. It was the realization of just how lucky I am to have lived in not just one, but two states that I grew to love so much that my leaving them caused me heartache. I know so many people who never know that feeling.

That really gives me hope for what is yet to come...

Time, as always, has flown by too fast and in less than a week I will no longer be in Maine. The past few weeks have been filled with hours of packing, planning, and visits with my favorite people and places one last time. I have moments of elation and excitement about the changes I'm about to face and the adventures they will bring, and then there are mornings I wake up filled with such a deep homesickness for Maine that tears haunt each breath until I close my eyes that night. Today has been one such day and tonight the devastating reality of what's coming suddenly became too much to bear and those threatening tears finally fell.

I still have no doubt that my choice to go is the right one, but when I think of all that I'm about to leave behind I become weak, sapped of my strength. In mere days I will no longer be able sit by the brick fireplace of my library, walk through the leaf laced paths of the Bowdoin quad, or sip the dark perfection that is God of Thunder coffee.Worse, in mere days I will be saying goodbye to some of the most wonderful people I have ever known, people who I care about deeply, without any promise or certainty that I will ever see them again. It's a knowledge that cuts through my heart like fire causing my courage to falter and self-doubt to flourish.

Today was a beautiful bright autumn day, but yesterday the rain fell fast and steady. As I enjoyed one last cup of coffee at the library I let my gaze drift out of the gray rain soaked windows and through them these words came

It's raining outside, softly tragic

 Drops transform first to mist then to magic

An echoing song full of goodbye

  A truth now so near it's hard not to cry

I walk up and down this familiar old street

 letting sky’s falling whispers kiss my face, soak my feet

The store fronts, the restaurants, the ruby tipped trees

  there's so much I love here, so much left to see

And the people whose smiles brought me strength, gave me hope

with their welcoming kindness I became one of their own 

This place is my comfort, my happiness, my home

My heart's filled with sadness, it doesn't want to let go

~~~~