70. 20. 10. 65. 85. 60. 1.
East to west to north to south and back again.
The Oregon coast. The road to the Keys. New England. The Southwest. Deep South.
Roads and directions and places and, most of all…memories.
We…you and I…were everywhere together.
I travel to as many places, the same roads as we did.
I don’t go to places though.
I don’t go to National Parks or monuments.
I’m not much interested in places since you left this earth.
Since you and I parted.
None of it carries the same meaning for me.
The thrill isn’t there, alone.
Or with others, really.
So I don’t go places.
But I do go. I do see.
I travel the roads you and I traveled and my eyes light on a roadside picnic table and I think to myself…we sat there under an umbrella and ate lunch, marveling at our surroundings.
I suddenly realize that the road I’m on is one we were on in our red Escape.
I’m on that same road now, in my pink car, towing my pink trailer that bears hundreds of names written in red pen.
It isn’t the same.
I didn’t expect it would be, of course.
How could it be?
To me and to so many others.
What my pink car and trailer represent, I mean.
I’m passionate about what I’m doing.
I’ll do it as long as I can.
But oh, my dearest Love, my eyes search for you on these roads.
My heart searches for those memories. It searches for all we felt for each other.
I try to feel it again and it’s there but distant…a memory of my mind because it’s been so long.
So very long since I glanced over at you in the driver’s seat and reached out my hand to massage the back of your neck as you steered us into adventure and you returned my glance and smiled and rested your hand on my knee.
Oh, my Love, my dearest Love…
I wish you back, adventuring with me.
I miss you~