The Noise

Axel Rose is blasting from the upstairs bathroom where my husband shaves. Eminem, from the kitchen where my daughter has been tasked with mopping, and I am not sure who is wailing from my son Oakley’s room, but it is packing a wallop. The whole house is pulsing.

I just finished sweeping up the remains of a pink pompom hat that our dog, Georgie, unwound into hundreds of three-inch-long strings of yarn all over my bedroom floor. It was intermingled with an equal amount of both his hair and mine-good nesting fodder, but not terribly good Feng Shui.

To top it off, I am wearing my very tight tights. They are squeezing my legs like two over-stuffed sausages and are making me feel like my derriere is swollen. I just went through four varicose vein procedures and have not been able to exercise for a month-so maybe it actually is swelling? And in the midst of all this, I am trying to listen to my latest Doulingo Spanish lesson through my AirPods and shout back the answers. My accent is truly terrible and I keep increasing the volume of my voice in the hopes that the program will understand me. It isn’t pretty, but I am trying to maintain my 87-day streak and doing whatever I can to get ready for my bike ride across South America. Yo creo que, es muy difícil.

When I am finished with my chores, I step into the night to walk my dogs and maybe find some peace, but Georgie pulls and Cricket drags, and before long I get myself tangled up in the knot of their leashes. Through my neighbor’s windows, I see a variety of peaceful domestic scenes; kids doing dishes, and adults reading, and I wonder why I seem to crave chaos rather than tranquility? Why isn’t a cozy, domestic lifestyle enough for me?

I am aware that training for this trip isn’t just about getting in shape, studying routes and learning spanish. There is a bigger part of it that involves a lot of introspection. I need to be aware of why I am doing this, as well as what my weakness are and where my blind spots may be-both for safety and so that I can enjoy my own company and not feel like I am traveling with a fool. So, as I untangle my dogs, I also take the time to untangle myself.

Somewhere along the last few years, I feel as though I have become a little lost. Life has been busy with a new career, COVID, midlife transitions, and my book publication-all good things, but also confusing and distracting. Truthfully, there are times that I question why I have chosen to ride solo across South America. Why up the ante so high? Florida is nice enough this time of year, isn’t it? In moments of self-doubt, I wonder if I am doing this to gather attention, write another book, or prove something to someone. Those are the worst reasons I can fathom and they make me feel rather nauseous. I fear that speaking large, postulating, and using social media as a billboard for my adventures may have marred the path to where I intended to go. Am I just like a teenager, counting likes as a measure of my worth?

As I walk along, stumbling through the dark autumn leaves, feeling the push me-pull me of my dogs, I thankfully hear an internal answer, a resounding “No”. What I long for on these adventures, is actually what I am intending to do on this walk-to become unlost.

These trips allow me to strip myself of the noise of life; the dog hair, loud music and other distractions and to find out who I am again. They help me remember how amazing this world is; the land, the people, the life and even myself. They help me appreciate the world in a way that fills me up with all that is good and my hope is that they enable me to pour it back out. These trips help me to reestablish myself in the midst of life’s craziness so that I can be who I want to be. Walkabouts so to speak.

As I circle the block and return to my home, my dogs race up the steps and crash into the door in their exuberence over dinner time. They bark and nip at each other telling me that the time for deep thoughts is over. I open the door and feel a waft of warmth and noise cascade out onto the porch and I remember one last thing. The best thing about these trips.

The best thing is that I get to come back here to this pulsating house-to the craziness and the mess; dog hair, Eminem and all. I wouldn’t have one without the other. Not for a second.