open spaces

we drove up from the center of Zacatecas to the Texas/Mexico border yesterday. As the road became wider and the land more open, I felt my soul open up. I hadn't realized how much I had missed the clouds and the wide sky and the green-gold grass on the sides of the highway. I wished that I hadn't already purchased plane tickets but could instead rent a car and keep on driving. I'd drive right through the great plains, through Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, and the Dakotas. what a way to go home. I'd see the seasons rewind, from the harvests already in progress in the south to the still growing and green oceans near my house. I could merge onto Route 281 and stay on it, jumping off right before Canada. Driving 70+ mph, watching the land unroll before me, letting the memories come back, listening and thinking and praying. That's how I'd like to go home.

We're still sitting here, waiting, on the tip of Texas. My flight doesn't leave until tomorrow but we wanted to leave time in case of traveling troubles. I'm not used to the water-saturated, super-heated air and I feel lethargic and annoyed outside. Now a tropical storm is rolling in and the rain comes in gusts and cools the air.

On driving to Fargo, June 12

I drove down to Fargo with my dad tonight. Tomorrow morning I fly out, heading to Fresnillo, Mexico.

After stopping for beef in Grand Forks (Texas Roadhouse), the drive to Fargo was really peaceful. South, the light pink and pastel orange sunlight reflecting off of the rainclouds had an ambient look to it: soft, like the subtle changes of the aurora Borealis. North Dakota mountains hung in the distance. (of course, these are not real mountains; merely the illusion of such caused by bilious cumulonimbus clouds on the horizon.)

Later, the setting sun crusted the western clouds with gold. Dad and I talked about television reception and drove into the rain. Tomorrow he will return, and I shall fly through clouds. See you on the other side.