Story

Rain drops danced on the window sill, running their fingers gently against the glass with longing sighs as they settled into seas of water only to be disturbed again by the next drop. The tulips wilting on the inside of the window breathed in the warm air of the house, yet still could not bloom as they watched with drooping faces the disturbance on the window sill. All was quiet in the house except for the gentle tapping of the rain on the window pane like a young lover throwing rocks to awaken his sleeping beauty. Across the white walls of the small apartment lay splashes of life that were too wild and untamed to be contained to a single wall let alone one skinny apartment space. The solitary apartment stood isolated on the ground floor of a building centered in New York’s sprawling system of roads, where it alone seemed vibrant and alive. Roads like the pathways of a body filled with the ever awake but seemingly never living people of the city that never sleeps. Separated by thin capillary walls from the bustle of the dark and dirty streets lay the hidden white walls of her home. The macabre symphony of art was pinned to the walls in a random yet insistently purposeful manner that blossomed from a young and wild heart. The Van Gogh imitations to the typography, and the old photographs of people she had never known filled the spaces of the white wall with color and life that she mastered and owned but still was not her own. The very walls jittered with a peaceful happiness where her fingers had traced along the walls as she had run through the tight hallways and rooms. Every window, every space had been filled by her loving hands so no spot would feel alone or empty. She was kind. ...

I saw you in a rare and out of prints bookstore reading out of the “Rare Illustrated Children’s Section” and I was intrigued. What were you looking at? It looked almost as if it is was a native American illustrated text but I had no idea. You were so focused and singular in your search it made me want to read wat you had picked up and know why you were so interested in it. Also, you never came down from your little stool, you stood on it the entire time and never moved, not even to sit on it. IT was as if up there on your stool and your children’s book you were in your own little world. It has been a while since I read a book like that and was a little envious as I watched you. I miss that world of singularity where ti is just you and the work in front of you. No distractions, no disruptions, and no failures in focus. I miss that. I wanted to have that, to be back in that world, but instead I had to watch from afar only wishing it was me on that stool with a book in hand that made the rest of the world disappear.

We made it. I am writing this post from my grandmother’s library where I will be staying for about the next three weeks. After eleven long days of waking up at five in the morning and going to bed at about eleven at night and over 4700 miles later, we are in our home away from home in Bootjack, Michigan. We spent the entire first half of our day having an amazing time on Mackinac Island. We took the ferry boat across Lake Huron over to the small island where we toured around for several hours. Since we did one of the earlier tours we got to actually go on the ferry underneath the Mackinac Bridge, the largest suspension bridge in the USA. The wind was biting and the spray from the waves was really cold as it splashed all over me and my camera but the view was spectacular. The water was almost more amazing than the bridge itself. One of my favorite things about Michigan are the lakes. Lake Superior is my all time favorite, but Huron was beautiful. The deep greens and blues that cast a gradient of color for all to see was stupendous to behold. ...

This is the winding down, the final frontier of the trip: we have entered the state of Michigan. The very tippy top of the state is the goal and end of the trip in Keweenaw County and we stayed the night about the half-way point right before the Mackinac Island Bridge. We left Cincinnati early in the morning and headed up to meet some of my mother’s old high school friends whom she was really excited to see after to many years. We met them for lunch right above where my mom lived as a child in Birmingham, Michigan. After lunch at Olga’s, an old favorite of my mother’s which serves gyros, we headed down memory lane to reminisce about my mother’s old home. Even though it is no longer there, the house next to cemetery, we still drove by where it once stood and even stopped at a garage sale at the place that now stands in its stead. We drove all over as she pointed out points of interest from her childhood including the cemetery. It was a huge trip down memory lane, even though the town had changed incredibly, we had a great time wandering around. ...

We started our day out with a little stress over our car. Because we have driven so many miles we decided to get an oil change but when we took it in and only after the oil had been changed did the low oil light pop up. Baffled and confused we spent a good half hour or more trying to fix this odd problem, we eventually reset the light after call Subaru but the threat of something wrong with the care has been looming over our heads ever since. Quite the unnecessary stressor on our shoulders. To remedy the stress we got Starbucks… lots of coffee and visited the Nashville Parthenon. ...

We left early in the morning from our beautiful riverside hotel room with whispered goodbyes by their door and headed into the Smokey Mountains before the sky was even fully lit. The park was beautiful, a wooded, secluded forest that had the mystique that only pristine wilderness has. A certain quiet that hangs peacefully over the entire park creating a nearly unearthly sense of calm. We drove through the winding mountain roads that were hidden under a canopy of trees. It was beautiful everywhere you looked and it was a huge breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively, to be back in nature enjoying the simple things rather than fancy shops or restaurants. ...

I today was the day we hit “the wall” for road trippers: the point of no more. Today marks the point where we are tired and sight seeing weary. No this does not mean we are done it just means that today was a day off from sightseeing. We didn’t really do anything today and abandoned the initial plan for the day for a shortened and less packed with things to do. In other words, today was a breather day and hopefully tomorrow will be the always necessary bounce back day in the road trip. ...

I can’t believe I am writing this from New Orleans. Ever since about third grade, when I started reading Anne Rice, I have wanted to come here and go to the french quarter. I have always wanted to be here but could never think of a reason to be here, and now, I am here. This morning we started our day doing the Riverwalk in the morning in San Antonio before anyone else in the city was awake. It was a nice reprieve from the chaos of mid afternoon tourism when the crowds are in full affect. I have definitely begun to appreciate early morning wake ups to avoid the crowds and actually enjoy what I am there to see. ...

We stayed the night in New Orleans and spent the entire day walking all over New Orleans to take in the sights of this complex city. There are really so many facets and corners to this city, I don’t feel anyone could ever fully explore. Because of this we decided to take a little tour of the city to help us gather some semblance of what we were doing. But we first decided to go to the famous and wonderful Cafe Du Monde. ...

Here is a small assortment of the glorious balconies in New Orleans we saw. Some looked like jungles, some were sophisticated with furniture and ceiling fans, and others where filled with flowers and a random collection of items backed by the colorful walls of the homes. Southern homes in New Orleans are very impressive indeed.