I woke up yesterday and decided I had finished. It was time. My patience was growing thin, maybe due to over tolerance of messianic babble, or maybe the conditions I got at bible camp (linen, bed, real food) developed a desire for something similar, but without religious coercion. When I hit Rocky Mountain National Park, I was tired and skipped it. When I arrived in Boulder, Co I didn’t feel like doing anything but read, and couldn’t find a comfy spot. I had an itch I couldn’t scratch, and I decided it was time. So I got in my car and drove. And drove drove drove drove. Wow, the Midwest is soooooo boring! Anything east of boulder was flat and corny, I mean literally made out of corn. “The biggest corn maze in the world!” the sign exclaimed extravagantly, “WOW! How exciting!” I cynically replied to the sign out loud, trying to overcome the late Amy Winehouse who was screaming in my car, receiving her second tribute since passing away. When I understood that old cynical me was coming back, somewhat surprised I asked myself “Why now?” Was it because I was going back to the old comfort of home that the grungy old cynic was coming back, or was it because I was truly fed up with joining in on other people’s lives but not mine. I felt exhausted for the first time in a almost two months. I exhaled slowly and thought “only 954 miles left of corn, and then… home”
It was a long drive. Long. 1438 miles of corn before I finally hit the Smoky Mountains, which were the only thing I would consider pretty along that route, except for maybe the Mississippi River. It took me a total of 23 hours of net driving time, 7 states, 6 cups of coffee and 2 5hour energy drinks, 2 time zones and 2 audio books to get to the finish line. My feet hurt, and my back hurt. It felt like the same struggle I had while hiking, just another 20 miles I would lie to myself, and eventually I stopped only when then mileage meter hit 300 miles and it was time for gas.
Now I’m home, and this is probably the last time I’ll be writing for a while. My life will go back to its new old regularity. Find work. Work. Go to school. School. Sounds boring and I wonder to myself if I can keep up the train of thought I’d had throughout these 2 months of travelling. To experience every day as an adventure of meeting people, getting excited, exploring the people, the culture, the choices, the system that lies in the base of their choices making them think they are free. I hope for a moment its possible, and play with the idea, then suddenly the same exhaustion that I experienced when I decided to come home befalls on me. It might be possible, but it’s tiring.
“There will be time for new battles, there will be time for more travelling” I console myself. There will be more cowgirls named Sammy Joe, and preachers named Drew. Sadly enough there will be more people visiting Yellowstone, and being fat and kids who have their first backpacking trip in the Tetons. There will be more missionaries encountering folks at the Mormon Temple in Salt Lake City and more ex-Mormons conveying the truth’ or at least their truth. There will be more free rafting trips and frat parties and hot springs and ponderings.
All in due time, young grasshopper.