I had to get a TB test for a new job today out by the mall. It is about five miles from my home. The road there snakes through commercial strips, congested roadways, car dealerships, and other detritus. Not a beautiful ride, but at a balmy 35 degrees, it was unseasonably warm for February 2nd here in Maine, and I couldn’t bear getting in my car. Within a mile or two I warmed up and took off my down jacket, wool mittens and pom-pom hat (I irresponsibly had forgotten my helmet) and the cool air tickled my scalp as it blew through my hair.
Lately, my 16-year-old son Oakley and I have been struggling to reintegrate into life at home after our bike trip across the United States this fall. He has returned to some of his mischievous ways and I have been spending more time plotting adventures and dragging my husband up mountains than I have looking for and committing to a job. Certain people have been reminding me kindly that vacation time is over.
I made it to the mall far too quickly and after the TB test, turned towards home to continue working through my list of chores and HR hurdles, so that I would be ready to begin working on Monday. But, I couldn’t.
As I straddled my seat in the parking lot of the Quick Care Medical Center, I felt all the restlessness of being home well up inside me and I rebelliously turned the wrong way. Instead of heading back to the ferry, I just started riding, away from the cluster of shops and parking lots, traffic and litter, responsibilities and lists and towards the forests and beaches and rocky promontories found along the Maine coast.
The winter wind whistled in my ears, my fingers grew numb and I became hungry and thirsty. I had no water or food because I hadn’t been planning on going for a real ride, but I couldn’t stop. At every turn that could bring me back towards the city, I turned the other way. I rode for hours. I could have ridden for days. I rode until I was ready to be still, which was a very long time.
I heard a quote the other day that sums up how I feel about this year. “This adventure has ruined me in the best way.” If I was irresponsible before, I am more so now. If I was chafing at the bit last January, now I have worn it right through. I live close to the EastCoast Bike trail that journeys from Bar Harbor Maine to Key West Florida, and when I see the signs marking the route, I feel a growl welling in my chest and demanding to be released.
I miss the crickets in Idaho that are as big as a grown man’s thumb. I miss the coyotes that are circling the cattle in Wyoming. I miss the bears, snuffling along the bases of the Grand Tetons. I miss the kind man offering us a ride to the local bike shop even though it was 30 miles out of his way. I miss not knowing. I miss the wide open. It is hard to turn away. The world is out there just waiting.
I am writing a book about all this. Adventure, longing, parenting, kindness, and hope. It is the only way I can think of to keep the trip alive and feed whatever little beastie has awoken within me.
Thanks for the update and the restlessness in your soul.
“At every turn that could bring me back towards the city, I turned the other way. I rode for hours. I could have ridden for days. I rode until I was ready to be still, which was a very long time.” This so resonates with me.
I’m so glad you’re writing a book about your experience, Leah. Your words are incredibly moving; I feel your restlessness and longing for adventure. It was wonderful to see your mom a few weeks ago! Sara
Loved this. Are you going to repeat your presentation for us seasonal Peaks residents? I marvel at your adventures.
Hope. Seeing all the goodness in people along the way must give you hope, not only for the future, but our grand country, too. Most people are really kind, I believe.
Thanks so much for writing again. I can’t imagine, myself, but I should think you & Oakley would be awfully tempted by that Bar Harbor to Key West trail. I agree with your friends here …. your writing is wonderful. I’m so glad you’re working on a book.Sign me up, please!
Taryn’s friend Mary Jane 🙂
Take heart, make heart, you’re doing fine just by being engaged! The world is a challenge that you are meeting heart and mind! Courage, toujours Audace! As the French say!
So happy to see your email notification in my inbox. I look forward to reading your book!
Maybe there’s more going on than you think.
I’m so glad that you decided to write a book. I’ll require any number of autographed copies!
Hi I very much appreciated your journey, please I will buy a copy of your book, Pure admiration of you and Oakley
love this. call of the wild returns.. <3
This really resonates with me. Once I started traveling I couldn’t stop. I love coming hone but only when I know that I am leaving again. Keep up the adventure. Look forward to seeing you when i’m Back on Peaks in April.
It reminds me of my feelings after living in Africa. You will never be the same again on coming back to America. Or on returning to your “regular life.”
This is the way I feel about living on an island, ruined in the best way. Nice to read more of your words!
Reading your recent blog makes me think about schedules and how they can be both comforting and confining.
Did you hear the whoop of joy that sprang from my heart when I read that you will write a book! Put me down for at least one copy of the original edition. You are wise beyond your years and have so much goodness to share with a world desperately in need of it.
I hear you. Civilization can feel confining, I know. Wishing you balance, whatever that means.
My heart went with you. As Pierre Curie said, “One should make of life a dream and of that dream a reality.”
My heart went with you. As Pierre Curie said, “One should make of life a dream and of that dream a reality.”