Miniature meditations on the imagery I notice as my life moves me around my country and the world.
Monday, March 21, 2016
Eastbound before dawn, somewhere on Interstate 80
One year after we moved to Iowa, we returned to Boston for the summer, helping ease my transition in an experiment with two-location living that ultimately proved too disruptive and unsuccessful. At the beginning of that time, though, I started out alone in my car well before dawn in Iowa, with a brand new audiobook and a taste for the open road, to be followed one day later by my wife and daughter in our other car. The cool clean morning air drew me Eastward in a glide past clusters of sleeping trucks, bunched up in droves on the side of the road. Somewhere in Illinois the dawn broke out in front of me, and by lunch-time I had almost finished with Ohio. After dinner near Albany, New York with a dear old friend, I glided through the darkening night to finally touch down in Somerville.