She's leaving home.
By Carrie C.
5/15/05
By Carrie C.
5/15/05
I received a letter like so many others
Mama said, "Hows life in the city, my your sisters grown,
And youve just missed those awful Dixie storms
Thank God theyve passed, those awful Dixie storms."
I left so long ago Ive forgotten just what for,
Except when a big city beckons you have no choice but to go
And here, there are no Dixie storms,
Thank god there are no Dixie storms
And the smoke on the street makes me wonder why I stay away
From those gentle Dixie storms
When I was younger how I would wonder
What made the sweet Georgia rain make me feel so warm,
And how God made a Dixie storm
And how I loved those Dixie storms
And the rumble in the sky brings a shudder to my soul
Oh how I love those Dixie storms.
- Maria McKee, Dixie Storms
Leaving home has been a common theme in my life. I always seem to have a somewhat visceral reaction to songs about leaving home in search of that elusive thing we all crave, whatever it is. In my younger years, I was consumed with a feeling of restlessness that stirred deep within me, a dust storm of ache that whirled around my heart. I'd felt that way for as long as I could remember.
I made my pilgrimage a few weeks shy of my 25th birthday. I left Rhode Island, everything and everyone I knew to see what else I could find out in the world. I'd just finished reading the "Tales of the City" book series by Armistead Maupin, so the big city that beckoned to me was San Francisco. I packed up my little Mazda with my precious things and camping gear, and headed west with $500 to my name, my best friend Beth's home in Oregon my initial destination.
And my god, what a trip that was.
I'd never camped before in my life. In fact, if you look up "rugged" or "outdoorsy" in a thesaurus, you'll find my rather princessy self pictured as an antonym, but I was convinced I could do it. I splurged on all sorts of camping and survival gear from L.L. Bean and R.E.I. -- I even bought a snakebite kit, and if you're guessing that I didn't need it, well.... just shut up.
The first night I found a campground in Pennsylvania and staked my temporary claim on an open hillside in the dark, having overdone the "just a few more miles" routine that day. It took me approximately an hour to set up my tent that night in the dark -- the same tent that I'd practiced setting up in my living room back home whose setup time I'd whittled down to 3 minutes. The wind howled and beat mercilessly against my tent for hours as I tried to sleep, and I wondered just what in the hell I thought I was doing. Just before dawn I drifted off to sleep. Later that morning a fellow camper gently pointed out to me that had I pitched my tent among the thick trees a scant 100 feet away, instead of choosing the wide open hillside, the wind wouldn't have bothered me.
Thus forcing me to the conclusion that more *books* on camping and fewer snakebite, first aid, and water treatment kits probably would have been prudent.
I'd never really seen anything too remarkable in the way of nature before, so I made it a point to stop at as many national parks as possible along the way. I'll never forget when I reached the Badlands in South Dakota. I stood there in awe at the gaping mouth of the park where it opens out into the Badlands, tears streaming down my face. I'd never seen anything so amazing in my life. And it just got better and better as I moved westward.
I arrived at Beth's house in Oregon three weeks later, with $12.00 in my pocket and to my name, exhausted but completely idealistic and so eager for my life to start, certain that my cross-country move was the key to everything. Between the late summer of 1995 and the winter of 1996, I moved from Rhode Island to Oregon, to California, to Maryland, all the while pursuing that elusive thing.
Years later, I finally learned that what I sought was, of course, actually me. I was there all along, but I learned that sometimes it takes a grand adventure (or two, or three...) to find what you're really made of, and figure out what's important to you. A marriage begun and since ended, friendships cemented for a lifetime, faith in myself learned and renewed....in that journey of mine, and others since, the destinations were fairly arbitrary.
The journey itself has been what's shaped me.
