Friday morning dawned and I--whether ready or not--had to get myself ready for what same may call an adventure of a lifetime. In a way, it is. I have never been to Alaska before and may never have the opportunity to go again. At the same time, this isn't the first trek our family has made across the country. I vaguely remember our first trip, I was probably about five. We took off from Virginia and headed west/north toward my grandparents house in Washington state. I remember bits and pieces of the trip, but I think I only remember because of the pictures, because when I "remember" I mostly see a picture of myself.
Our second trip started the summer after I turned 10. We headed through the middle of the States and came back through the south. Texas, Southern California, Arizona, and New Mexico all look the same, just for the record.
Anyway, back to the present. Friday we drove almost non-stop from our house to somewhere in Wisconsin. My dad drove until he got tired and then he pulled off at one of those truck stops along the highway. It was a relatively boring yet relaxing drive. It was quiet. Megan was reading...or sleeping...most of the way, and so did I.
If you haven't been to the Mid-west before, I highly recommend it.Early in the morning we ran into the Jolly Green Giant and joined him for breakfast. But driving though Wisconsin, Minnesota, and South Dakota today was indescribable. The land goes on for seemingly forever in every direction. There are few trees and hills so you can see for miles. I would look up from reading and be captivated by the scenery outside my window. The dirt is so dark and rich against the green grasses and blue sky. There is no natural barriers against the wind and the grass ripples and moves almost as if it were water. East of the Missouri River, the land was strange and I didn't remember it at all. The flatness of the land would go uninterrupted for miles and then all of a sudden random hills would pop up out of now where. They created their own valleys and mini ranges along the road. It was beautiful and a real blessing.
The main part of the day consisted of seeing the Badlands, which is a rather adequate word to describe it actually. We were driving along with prairie on either side of us, and all of a sudden, the earth dropped and crumpled into itself. There is no way to describe it. Sandstone, I believe, heavily eroded in some spots, and not in others. Supposedly, where the Badlands rest used to be the home of a large body of water--a kind of inland sea of sorts. Some how, the water evaporated and left the strange landscape behind. It was absolutely mesmerizing.
The openness of the land here, and the long hours reading and listening to music gave me time to think and reflect. It is so big here. The bigness, if that's even a word, and the beauty of everything around me made room for ideas and dreams that I may have other wise ignored. Here, the world is slowed. The farms are large, the spaces between them are large. The lives they live may seem limited because of the lack of "civilization" anywhere near them. Sometimes, however, I wish I had lived in a world similar to this, slower and quieter. My little town in West Virginia is close enough to DC that we get the rush and the pressure of the city. I've come to love and appreciate DC for what it is and what it has to offer. But at heart, I'm a country girl with big dreams and hopes for the future. Today, in this place so open and untouched allowed me to remember that. To reconnect with a part of me that had been covered by years of rushing, attempts at measuring up. This Sabbath, though not held in a church, may have been the best I've experienced in a long time.
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