It’s been almost 7 weeks since we left Arizona, and over 4 months since we left our rental home in Wyoming.
What can I possibly say about what life has been like since launching into this epic late in life adventure?
I feel like an out of control hoarder buried under thousands of miles of landscapes, centuries of American history and endless echoes of conversations shared with locals and fellow travelers.
I’ve woken up to -9 degrees in the parking lot of a small casino in Wyoming, watched the sailboats skim the surface of the Pacific Ocean on a perfect Southern California afternoon, marveled at how comfortably cool it is at a lake in Southern Arizona, only a few miles from the Mexican border, and then the next thing I know, I’m standing on the Eastern-most coastline of Maine looking at New Brunswick in the distance .
It’s intoxicating, invigorating, addictive, exhausting and I want more!
I can’t take enough pictures.
I can’t ever get weary of Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium that still resonates with the energies of the music legends who graced Her stage.
I can’t look away from houses centuries old or taverns where the American Revolution was surely discussed as feverishly and violently as political issues are today.
I can’t spend enough time in Thomas Jefferson’s home, Monticello, or the staggering number of Smithsonian buildings bursting with a Twilight-Zone-like amount of artifacts ranging from Captain Kangaroo’s jacket to the original Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights.
I can’t stop the pain in my heart or the lump in my throat as I walk through the battlefields of Gettysburg or Arlington National Cemetery.
I can’t imagine what it was like to see Babe Ruth point to where his next home run was going to fly, and then witness it come true, as I gaze upon his uniform in the Cooperstown, New York Baseball Hall of Fame.
I can’t look long enough or hear the crash of the Atlantic Ocean too much.
I can’t hug the family and friends I’ve visited along the way enough or tell them I love them too many times.
My brain buzzes as every emotion our humanness blesses and curses us with is stimulated to the point of utter exhaustion and then stretches to accommodate the overdose as I go back for more.
And I do … go back for more
Because I Can