My foot hits the gas pedal as I back out of the driveway. I have no clear destination, God is telling me to drive, but not to a bus station because going to the bus station was my original plan; escape New Hampshire and go to Boston. It occurs to me that going to Boston is no longer an escape but a place in which I am able to roam free, no questions asked. The last time I went to Boston with a clear purpose, it was cold and rainy, I drowned myself with ice cream and learned that I am broken.
It’s hard to admit that I am broken.
As I drive back roads to Henniker instead of highways to Concord, I know I need some green paper, so I stop at TD and then reroute the tires back to The Pancake House, a small Breakfast Place that I always need to visit once when I am home. I am lonely, but I am filled by the warmth wooden structures hold. The smell of coffee and syrup fill my nose as I take a seat. I order a coffee and look at the menu even though I already know what I want. It is familiar but not the same.
It’ hard to admit that I am not the same.
Once out of the pancake house, I make my way to the highway and consider driving further south for the day. I remember I don’t know my way off the top of my head and scratch the idea. I turn right toward Concord instead. I drive, I worship. I think about taking 89 to Burlington, Vermont. I pass the exit to go in that direction. Concord awaits me. I know what I need, I know what I want, and I am singing that His love never fails in the midst of thinking about sins and how even I sin, too.
It’s hard to admit that I am a sinner.
Cars that rush pass me by on the highway. I pass two police cars that have caught individuals due to speeding. The trees and hills remain stagnant as I keep moving. It pains me sometimes that trees don’t get the gift of Free Roam like I do, but I wonder if it’s better being rooted in one place, not able to move. I’ve heard that trees get sickness. I wonder if it’s because they get stuck, too. I wonder how they can possibly keep their strength and dignity when they have all been given a lifetime of stillness.
Sometimes I yearn to be as strong as a tree.
I finally make it to Concord. I roam Target for a while, picking up what might help me schedule things better during the year ahead; calendars, sticky notes, pens. I think about how no amount of scheduling will help me feel more prepared. I think about how fast time moves, how so much changes in even the course of a day. I think about how today might be all I have. I have no guarantee of tomorrow. I think about events from this summer. How maybe it was only to help me prepare for what adventure lies next.
Sometimes I wish I knew what was next.
I know that in less than a week I will move back to school. I know that in two weeks, I will see a plethora of faces both old and new coming back to campus. I know that I will go to classes. I know that I will run and I know that I will write and read and be in a play and maybe some choirs. I know I will join a bible study. I know I will be bombarded with questions of “what’s next?” (my nightmare). I don’t know what happens after a single day. All I know is this moment and that everything will work itself out.
Sometimes all it takes is a little faith.
I eventually make it home after spending an hour and a half in Books a Million. I have purchased two new books even though I haven’t finished the one I am currently reading. It’s okay. As I drive home I think about writing. I think about taking a social media and technology break. I think about letters. I think about Honduras, Florida, Maine. I think about cars and trains and planes and walking and running. How I have a heart that pumps blood and keeps me alive. How my heart is rooted here for the moment but could be rooted somewhere completely different the next. My heart is aching for much right now.
I will always understand the ache of my Heart.
A pumping mobile home inside my chest, claiming love from His forever inside a world full of maybe’s and perhaps.