Driving to Chicago

"I am an idealist. I don't know where I'm going but I'm on my way."
-Carl Sandburg

Today I drove five hundred-something miles to Indianapolis, IN in a two-day trek to Chicago, IL -- my new home.

It was a good day, surprisingly. Somehow I have never driven this far before in my life. I have ridden in cars for trips that spanned weeks across the country but never have I been driving and certainly never was I alone. And while I had fervently wished that someone would come with me as I planned this trip, I found myself grateful to be solitary today. It was like the calm before the storm except I see no tempest. Yes, there will be the whirlwind of getting settled but that is a resettlng and not the destructive side of the elements.

Rather than being upset about leaving, it all just sort of came and made sense. I've already made peace with leaving my family and all my friends and the extended "family" of those people that make up my daily life. All week long I kept reminding myself that I won't live here anymore, that this will no longer be where I am or where I will be. It never felt like there was a change coming. Life seemed too constant to be changing; too full to be lacking, too sweet to be sad at any type of ending. I'm waxing poetic but the simple truth is that I was driving down the road and everything made sense. There was no joy or sadness about it -- I was simply where I was supposed to be. And while flying the distance from Atlanta to Chicago is certainly much easier than driving, the drive helped put the distance in physical perspective. The thought kept coming (perhaps repetitiously so that I wouldn't forget it) this is the distance between where you were and where you are going. This is the distance between where you were and where you are and where you will be. It's not so great that you couldn't travel it in one day (if you're stubborn or energetic enough). It wasn't theoretical or imaginative or too big for comprehension.

I'm rambling, I apologize. I'm too tired to edit this evening.