Channeling the road warrior, Ann Sydney, as
I embark on impromptu quests in my new city.
***
I dare to the
neighborhood laundromat. I come prepared. Single dollar bills ready to be
switched out for quarters, a gigantic pack of detergent, a serious hamper the
size of a walk-in closet. Besides a few awkward mishaps, like at first choosing
an ill-tempered washer who spits back my quarters, and rebellious thongs
bouncing from the dryer in front of a few spectators, I leave triumphant.
This sense of victory
coupled with a beautiful bloom of night and a playlist on Spotify that
reminisces sing-alongs to my adolescence, sparks a desire to drive. Drive to
drive.
And I do. Because
I can. And the fear once harbored for the busy streets subsides as I decide to
let my GPS be my backup and use my own internal compass to be my guide.
I coast along a
winding, stretch of North Lamar overlooking and then diving into lush greenery.
The thriving vegetation and gorgeous, dark rolling hills evoke awe and a
deepening of ease into this slowly growing familiar scene. I roll the windows
down, let my hand comb through the cool currents of night air. I savor the
feeling of relaxed confidence, because it’s been earned through daily dares to
venture, explore, push forward to crack and river through the holds of fear.
The transition to
Austin fluctuates between bright-eyed panic and sheer exhilaration. Tonight,
those fight-flight-freeze responses release into a steadiness, a calmed trust.
This inner knowing that I’ll be all right, because I trust myself, my
resources, my quick thinking to ensure my well-being, soothes my nerves and
directs my drive.
And this is the
trust stirring mischief to continue when I reach the stoplight, the end of the
path I know for sure.
There’s the
choice of turning around now, when I feel confident, when I feel good, or dare
further, press onward and steer on the edge of getting lost and discovering
that I know exactly where I am going.
I choose to drive
on.
Memories of former
visits, landmarks noticed from the times I rode in the passenger seat arise to
assist my spontaneous trip. A sudden desire to travel into the center of the
city, toward a scene I long I see, and this time as a resident, this time as a
person in the front seat, crystalizes into a core intention behind the
impromptu cruise.
The streets
expand into multiple lanes. The sidewalks are miniature roads of their own
making, throngs of people passing and weaving, stepping into and exiting,
excitedly narrating the celebrated night life of this musical city.
For a moment, the
traffic thickens, and I hear the wail of fear, bemoaning the car chaos I
purposefully ensnared myself in.
A quick decision
to turn left, and the scene I yearn to see envelopes in stunning urban majesty
around me.
The illuminated
Capitol resides center stage, an historic anchor to a booming city rising and
gallantly towering in luminous skyscrapers. At the edge of its distinguished
seat of pristine, manicured lawns, streets ripple and reach, intersect and
crisscross. There’s an electric pulse to city-life that reenergizes my spirit,
revitalizes my senses, and I’m propelled forward. Alert and awed, I drive
wide-eyed to capture and immerse myself into this night scene that now daily
offers itself to me.
The time comes to
wake up my GPS. The directions yawn over the speakers, but I don’t obey, not
just yet.
I know there’s an
alternative route. I drive closer, and closer, and closer, right up to the
Capitol. I peer up through a windshield that needs to be cleaned, and soak into
sight this marker that governs my own sense of internal direction.
I sweep left,
breathing it all in, and navigate toward home, feeling tremendously more at
home in my new city.
