My Sunday Drive (with very few momisms)

I went to a family reunion today. It was way the heck out in Lexington, MO. I didn't realize how far it really was, and I surely didn't realize that I would be pleasantly surprised by the drive.

You see, for the past several months I have been yearning to go on a Sunday drive...the kind my mom used to enjoy. They start out with a general direction in mind, and included spontaneous turns down unknown but interesting roads. Usually rural routes, gravel roads and an atlas are a must.

As I was driving to Lexington, stores, houses, strip malls, gas stations and street lights gave way to rolling hills, trees, livestock and old farmhouses. I did not expect the drive to be beautiful at all and was simply delighted by the treasures my eyes constantly landed on. I was always surprised to find what was around the bend. It was a cloudy morning, a little misty in some places, which added to the enchantment of it all. The ride home was sunny in a surreal, perfect way, casting shadows that only come from mid-day sun. Everything seemed to glisten.

The farther I got into the drive, the more I longed to belong to this land, way out in the middle of nowhere. I longed to breathe this crystal clear air and to stand in the middle of the ridge of trees, allowing their vibrations to reset my soul. I longed to dig my hands into the soil and feel it under my nails; to establish a give-and-take relationship with the earth as I gently planted my seeds and pulled up the vegetation that the earth offered - my gift for being kind and gentle. I longed to explore and learn the beautiful, strangely terraced hill I saw in the distance from the highway. I wanted desperately to hike the hills under the canopy of trees, to learn the different plants and know which snakes were poisonous. To know what kind of animal was making that strange sound. To be able to make a fire if need be, and spend the night in a small corner of the great span of land that I knew. To make a path in the forest.

I don't know what people do for a living when they live in ten buck two. I've always wondered. A big part of me needs the country. Another part of me would feel so lonely and isolated as my need for social activity is great. I would be frustrated at how far the grocery store, Wal-Mart and Babies R Us were. It would be mighty convenient if I could just be Amish. All of this would be covered. Not sure if I could do without computer and phone but I would probably surprise myself and find solace in the neighboring women. Little Amara Mae would grow up knowing how to live off the land, which would be some of the most useful knowledge a person could have. I wish I knew how to live off the land.