***
A road trip
sparks my spirit awake.
I recognize the
cure is the open road as soon I turn onto the two-lane highway, right as the
first current of wind sweeps through the car, and the sun rays beam through the
window shield, through the rolled down windows, warming my forearms, my face,
bleaching my hair blonder (I’ll be sunburned later – a combination of the
seven-hour drive and walking the streets of downtown Marfa in the afternoon
West Texas sun, and then the burn will tan into a sun-kiss).
The open road
is a grand hostess for my 27th birthday.
I must confess,
I am fabulously surprised by her capability to throw a stellar party. She lets
me pick the playlist, graciously lets me sing out loud, and I confuse the
lyrics, and I make up words, and I play the same LP song on a delirious
loop for a solid forty-minutes, but it’s my birthday, it’s my road trip, and
these are the facts she reminds me of whenever I feel like I’m being too
self-indulgent.
There is
dancing, too. Of course there is dancing. I sway within the confines of my
seatbelt, drum my fingers into the streams of wind, even do a little shimmy,
and the mountains blush. Or maybe they are just sun-kissed, like me.
There’s an iced
vanilla latte (double shot, because it’s my birthday and I want to be wired
awake for all the festivities), and a cold brew (“This is my crack,” the
barista who believes in ghosts told me as he gifted me a full cup) riding
shotgun, and they may be responsible for a few shimmies, and spontaneous
sing-alongs.
There is the
friend driving ahead of me, pointing and directing the way, so I can relax into
the drive and know that if I get lost, I have her. She’s a text, a call, a
frantic hand wave away. I smile as I see her hand float into the hot air,
surfing the breeze, in rhythm to her playlist, in tune with the tempo of road
and desire to arrive at Marfa while there’s still sunlight to explore.
I explore the
contents of my mind here, too. This is a gift presented by the plains. Thoughts
freed to roam and meander away along the far reaches of field, of distant
plains. The mental chit-chat fades, and the wind is louder now.
The wind gifts
me clarity. Fresh air courses and polishes the core of the narratives that need
to speak. The lessons glisten, ready to be seen, acknowledged, heard. I can
listen now, because the open road invigorates my courage, and LP's sheer, raw voice shakes that piece of my
soul yearning to be wild in knowing and untamed in feeling.
Through song,
through road, through their intermingling rhythms, I rediscover a chord of strength that has always been mine, one
that has ensured that I made it to this day, to this drive. There’s intrinsic grit, this ancestral determination that will always purposefully move me forward.
And I move forward by listening, finally.
There’s an
understanding for the past, a liberated love for the present, and emboldened
confidence for the future. This drive defeats insecurities and proves my growing
capability to dare and go and do, and this feeling of being capable I deeply
embrace.
I’ve felt
desperately inadequate for most of my life. But now, at 27, I can stand in the
wounding, observe the damage without bitterness or anger, and forgive the
people who taught me and told me otherwise. I’m driving away from them, and
into the blaze of the new year. I am liberated to love and celebrate the imperfect completeness that is me.
And I am free to feel unapologetic joy. This is my gift to myself. I let myself receive joy and experience the thrill of driving down this rush of inspiring road that is changing me with each passing scene, each racing mile.
All the struggles still exist. The trauma will need to be unpacked. This waits for me back in Austin, and that's what makes this drive tender and raw and sweet. I dive into the delicious truth that joy can still be accessed in the midst of confusion, fear, reeling transition.
This drive and all its golden-hued epiphanies become the compass directing my new spin around the sun. This is the memory that revives and sustains the feeling, steering me closer to the daring turns of passions, places, people who resonate like that open road, feel like the ecstatic joy of spontaneously singing, wonderfully and freely off-pitch, into the far west.
And I am free to feel unapologetic joy. This is my gift to myself. I let myself receive joy and experience the thrill of driving down this rush of inspiring road that is changing me with each passing scene, each racing mile.
All the struggles still exist. The trauma will need to be unpacked. This waits for me back in Austin, and that's what makes this drive tender and raw and sweet. I dive into the delicious truth that joy can still be accessed in the midst of confusion, fear, reeling transition.
This drive and all its golden-hued epiphanies become the compass directing my new spin around the sun. This is the memory that revives and sustains the feeling, steering me closer to the daring turns of passions, places, people who resonate like that open road, feel like the ecstatic joy of spontaneously singing, wonderfully and freely off-pitch, into the far west.
