Longview, TX, roughly 10 am, a week ago, we embarked on a drive, circular in shape when traced on a map, that would not come to a complete stop for 7 days. Our dear friend Meg waved goodbye from her log cabin porch, her smiling face to exist only in our memories until another, separate road trip brought us together again.
We encountered sunny, marshmallow filled skies, except the patchy violent southern thunderstorms in Louisiana and Florida. We spoiled a stranger's scavenger hunt picture of shoppers at a voodoo store in New Orleans by lifting our shirts and revealing our titties and bellybuttons. I dove unclothed into the cold, salty, playful ocean sang to the gulls and fish while Taylor ran through skittish flocks on the shore. We shared the beach with no one, the closest fishermen were far enough off to notice only the tugging of their lines. We visited my grandmother briefly, and I serenaded my grandfather's ashes with my guitar in the mausoleum behind their Catholic church.
We drove through the night with no certain destination, only a direction, and crabbiness and angst in the absence of sleep. An old man in a Hardee's fast food joint pointed us in the direction of a campground. The fog on the road at 5 am in North Carolina, so thick it reflects the glare of headlights back into your eyes, turned a shade of royal blue just before the sun rose. We found ourselves suddenly behind a range of green mountains peeking out of the blue fog as we turned a sharp curve in the road, and the sun also peeked from the horizon. We found the campsite and woke up at noon to find we were in a National Forest brimming with waterfalls- a natural water slide, nature trails and breathtaking views from 6,000 ft elevations above the clouds. We stumbled into paradise.
We wound through scenic mountain roads for three days, from the Pisgah National Forest to the Great Smoky Mountains, which turned out to be a huge tourist destination. I hopped atop boulders in the rivers in the park, and listened to the river's laughter, screams, and whispers. It told me to cross it- dared me, really- and I did. I used the current to push me towards rocks I could grab onto and pulled myself up, cutoffs and tshirt drenched. A woman in a tie dye shirt and a young boy waved and smiled at me from the bridge above. And I crossed again. Lesson: Go with the flow. Listen to it, and let it help you cross the rocky rapids you face.
The stretch of road from Tennessee to Arkansas wound through tree and ivy covered hill- whole fields of trees covered in ivy, grass covered in ivy. Craving for destination, cigarettes, and food dampened our moods, but the hugs and smiles that welcomed us in Batesville drove away any remnant of frowns and grumbles. Our souls were alive, awakened. I climbed around inside a pipe organ while Taylor serenaded "Let it Be" and "Mother's Day". And we spend the day with music and love, wishing we all lived in one place we never had to leave.
We dove from the car as soon as the engine was cut off and kissed the pavement of the driveway at 4 am yesterday. Our shoulders are sore from all the out-of-state license plates. We never want to get in a car again. We want cigarettes, sleep. We piss outside of locked hotels and spray pink silly string to keep smiles on our weary faces.
Good trip, brother :)
