I remember days ago sitting in the car in a parking lot in Carmel, my window open & my back to the ocean, three boys dozing behind me, one snoring to beat the waves crashing only a few yards beyond us. I remember thinking about how far from home we were at the end of the western world, nothing but sea for miles.
Since then, we have survived the kingdom of the mouse, crossed the western barrenness, hid away a night on sin city, slid through Utah's deathly slickrock & painted desert, climbed the Rocky passes, & rolled the ancient sea now filled with prairie grass, broken promise, & knee high wheat.
Something of the majesty of its open ocean past reared up as we crossed Kansas. A summer thunderstorm lit the sky for 200 miles, finally crashing upon us near the Capitol city. The last hour slid by as I sat, awake, alone again--with fragile sleeping cargo, in a car drunk on homesickness as it burst through rain & debris knowing the way, knowing rest was near, knowing we had survived another windswept journey.
Since then, we have survived the kingdom of the mouse, crossed the western barrenness, hid away a night on sin city, slid through Utah's deathly slickrock & painted desert, climbed the Rocky passes, & rolled the ancient sea now filled with prairie grass, broken promise, & knee high wheat.
Something of the majesty of its open ocean past reared up as we crossed Kansas. A summer thunderstorm lit the sky for 200 miles, finally crashing upon us near the Capitol city. The last hour slid by as I sat, awake, alone again--with fragile sleeping cargo, in a car drunk on homesickness as it burst through rain & debris knowing the way, knowing rest was near, knowing we had survived another windswept journey.
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