one stretch of road
that all my life
living here
i’ve never seen
how it curves and dips
reveals a view
of peaks and forests
of bicyclists making
their way to their next destination
(here is where the heart is)
of log cabins
and tiny towns
hidden trails
and geocaches
campgrounds tucked in
amongst aspens
and dirt roads
and i am reminded
(do i need a reminder?)
of why i am here,
why we are here
here
here
on this curvy
dipping winding road
that takes us home.
for a thousand miles
we see the reach of
the Mighty Mississippi,
the river we bought
for pennies on the dollar,
the river of dreams
(sometimes nightmares),
the river that feeds us all
and doesn’t feed us.
after cornfield gives way
to soybean field and
amber waves of wheat,
all i can think about are the bison
who ate and fertilized
this prairie, feeding
ten thousand generations
and yet
we destroy it
with unnecessary crops
feeding cattle that could
(and would) do the same as the bison.
as night gives in to day
we cross the border
and see cows in pasture
(home at last)
a truck with a Kentucky plate
(home at last)
and hope that one day
we will release
the native grasses
and allow the prairie
to be home at last.
Mythili
you are a fish
swimming all day
a proclamation against the heat
losing all of last year’s fear
and washing it away with intrepid dives
into the pool that you proudly stand up in,
reminding me that you are
almost (but not quite)
a six-year-old mermaid
whose summer of swimming
will soon end with a splash.
Isabella
at your sisters’ request
they have segregated themselves
into the far back.
most oldest daughters would love a chance
just one
to be alone
but your lip pouts its way down the interstate.
i sit beside you and flip out two auto bingo boards.
within five minutes you have won,
within fifty miles your board is almost full,
within three hours we’ve gone through
every Extreme Nature card
and your only request
is that the ride will never end.
Riona
you are an echo of your sisters’ enthusiasm
the squeals of delight
tagging just seconds behind theirs
as we pull into the hotel parking lot
you shout, “They have a fancy fountain!”
only a nanosecond after Isabella.
this i could remember most
as it happens daily.
but what will make me most proud
will be the fourteen flights of stairs
that you climbed up
one foot on one step, another on the next
(remember when you were almost two
and couldn’t even stand?)
not one time, but two in a ten-hour day,
my soon-to-be-four-year-old
advancing to the top
of a milestone I will never forget.
Frost haunts me with the words
I first heard in eighth grade and now
We’re passing Arnold and way leads onto way
And Isabella’s desperate question
Will we ever be back?
Makes me want to wrench the steering wheel
From his palms and take one last look from the top
Oh how the river would shine!
But we are headed south, sun at our side
Behind the non-native Kentuckian
Our prime parking place abandoned
With the three free beers
And it will have to be good enough
Our archless trip disappearing
As we enter interstate oblivion.
Twenty perfect pictures
A cry-free four hour drive
Thrilled squeals that last for miles
A dip in the end-of-maze pool
A local restaurant in a sea
Of red jerseys and sauce
On the way to the stadium
With an ocean of red jerseys and lust
It’s summer and the sun has set
On fourteen flights of stairs up
The arch glistens from city lights
Alongside the river of all rivers
Our room sees it and smiles with pride
For we have won, we have won,
Our team, us, them, we have won.
ninety degrees, heading into the sun,
hour three of a dogged day’s drive.
my sweat gives in to my need for
some cool caffeine, even if it means
stopping at the food devil’s door.
i stand in line behind their typical customer:
400 pounds, greasy white hair,
pack of Marlboros tucked into its home
in his back pocket, he orders his
super-sized meal and waddles around
while the too-thin cashier rings it up.
i catch a glimpse (all it takes)
of his 4X gray T-shirt that
bubbles over his belly
like an ashy house dress.
“Fit for Life: Jesus Christ’s Gym.”
when i discover the latte machine is broken,
the irony leads me across the street where
i put $2.46 down on the gas station counter
for a canned Starbucks, the Indian brothers
taking my money, their heavy accents reminding me
of home, home, home.
with the keys trapped inside
and us trapped here,
we have a moment to dwell
or look out at the view of rolling hills,
a distant silo,
and listen to the variety of birdsongs
in the for-once-not-too-hot day.
Lunch will wait, as will we,
and move on with our day
in the same languid way
as natives of Tennessee.
One blog post to write with
Two sleepy-with-summer eyes for
Three sleeping soundly little girls who’ll have
Four days with me in the upcoming fortnight, though
Five days would make us all a bit happier, especially with
Six over-mountains hours separating us, though we can make it
Seven lonesome (for me) days until we meet again, especially with
Eight personally-picked items in each (never do this) gift bag for at least
Nine hours of enjoyment (I’m hoping for more), my heart will crack right at
Ten in the morning as they buckle in and take off, my loves with my lover for
Eleven time-with-extended-family, miss-them-already, counting-down-the-days.
at times it feels like nothing less
than a gigantic pile of work: the
seven sleeping bags, two tents,
four bags of food, two melting-quickly
coolers, dog leashes, rain flies,
camping chairs, shovel, swim bag,
toiletry bag, overnight bag… it sits in
the dirt as we lethargically carry piece
by piece and load up the two cars.
but with one last look through the
glorious green leaves out onto the
cove (waterfront property for a night),
the girls bobbing up and down in
their life jackets, Daddy with his
fishing pole, Uncle Zak dipping the
oars of the kayak into the smooth water,
i can still feel the tingle of it on my skin,
washing away the exhaustion, the work,
and bathing me in memories that will
build up a gigantic pile of love in my heart.
1 bike
1 narrow bridge
1 mile-wide lake
1 dose of fear for your life
2 speeding cars (instead of 20)
3 shots of adrenaline
4 cups of determination
1. Take a picture beforehand so you’ll have documentation.
2. Wait for your moment. The shoulder of the road before the bridge will help you build up your fear.
3. Mix the determination and adrenaline in a hot-as-blood concoction and hit the pavement with your tires.
4. Forget about the forty miles behind you. Focus on the beautiful lake, the white line, and the bout-to-burst heart to get you to the center of the bridge.
5. Let the cars zoom past and try to ignore the semi coming from the other direction. If you pedal with the risk of your life in your heart, you’ll make it before he does.
6. Take a picture from the other side for documentation. You might need it to remember this moment. Or, you might not. Either way, it’s a beautiful bridge.
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