This is not the way it ends: Signs of life

20150419_162707[1] 20150419_162854 20150419_163914 20150419_173755Sunday, I sat in my car
in a remote field
next to someone’s rural mailbox
and felt the world sway.

Above me, the clouds whirled and blew.
Around me, the rain pelted and washed beneath the Vibe.

I looked out of the windows to get bearings,
out the sunroof to spot any twisty clouds,
and waited.

Winds rocked my little car so completely that I felt I was in a rowboat on an angry sea and not in the middle of fields and fields and fields of green spring growth.

Calm and wondering descended.

All I could think of was
Do Madi and Kenan know how much I love them?
How “being proud” was not exclusive to those rare times when all the balls are in the air
the dog is walked
and the world applauds.
Do they know how much I admire them?

And
Did Madi shift the laundry?

My sister, Katie and Dave, people I see in the everyday and ordinary came to my thoughts.
CS Lewis.
Zach, Madi’s fella.

Though it felt like the storm would never end,
the delay along the fields and blue highways lasted only a little while20150417_170859
before it was time to start again

in the blowing
roiling clouds
slick pavements
rain
and wind.

Leaving that stopping place…
where I could see a home in the distance
a stranger’s home
I could make it to the barn if I needed to
I could stay here…

Leaving that bump along the road was more frightening than staying put
Even with the rare car or 18-wheeler that passed me in the tumult.

Rain and wind had not fully passed, but I knew it was time to press on.
I drove below the speed limit.
What pushed me on was that I was sick with something and needed sleep.
And miles to go.

Inside
was the loneliness of leaving the kids
and missing them
and the pup
with a quiet cold apartment ahead.

The reality that a friend was saying the last goodbyes to her dad.
And though my life is too blank of a canvas
and my tools seem totally unsuited for this next unwinding chapter
I could not stay put.
The peanut butter and chocolate would run out.
And I was so tired.

So I crept out onto Highway 99
somewhere between Oklahoma and
desolate Howard, Kansas (the irony of getting derailed there)
and made my new beginning back towards Manhattan.
Home for now.

Because
As terrified
and sick
and exhausted as I was along that unknown road
I could not stay there.

This is not the way it ends.

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About allielousch

Engaged in everyday adventures and derring do.
This entry was posted in Signs of Life, There is a lot I don't know and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to This is not the way it ends: Signs of life

  1. ShelleyC says:

    You are read, heard, seen, and loved from the other hemisphere!

  2. Seth Barnes says:

    That looks like a funnel cloud – no tornado, right?

  3. allielousch says:

    No tornado overhead. Just gobs of wind, rain, a wee bit of hail, and tree bits. No cows flew past.

  4. Lori says:

    No cows, but what about witches on bicycles??? 🙂

  5. Mimi Moeller says:

    Allie this was beautifully written. I wish I could have been there with you. As far as witches riding bikes, you aim, I will push the door open. Take that from the sisters we. Love you.

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