The Whole of It

The future seems like such a nebulous, far away thing. There seems to be a definite path which I'm following for the moment and my (not to scale) map has scribbled in blobs at random points along the horizon which I am supposedly walking towards. SOLAR. Burning Man. Grad School. I want to add in question marks along the edges to punctuate the absolute lack of certainty which seems to have me in its grips at any given moment. Time keeps passing but it is hard to tell with me looking at my shuffling feet instead of the horizon. Maybe I should keep track by the declining numbers in my bank account. It seems to be what I'm judging everything by these days.

Ah, the life of a gypsy. I feel I've earned the title now with traveling adventures as well as abject poverty. Although it's difficult to be truly poor when you have friends and family. Love and hope go quite a long way.

And it was with those self same thoughts in mind which I hugged the puppies goodbye (for now) and pulled my last $50 I'd been saving out of the crinkled Wachovia envelope in my purse. Nearly a month ago when I first left Fernandina after a visit with my parents my mother had slipped it folded into my hand as I was heading off to Atlanta. "In case you should need to come home." I hugged her and promptly forgot about it. It was as if she had issued an incantation. Even when there were things I wanted to do it never occurred to me to spend the money. Maybe it was just that it was specifically earmarked for something else. Or maybe I just didn't feel that it was mine in any concrete sense. But putting $20 into Starla in the form of gas was the appropriate thing to do. The remaining $30 went back into my pocket as a woman with gold teeth and a shiny SUV came to a screeching halt beside me at the gas station.

"Bless you, baby! I love you. Now, you don't think that I do but it's true! See, this here is my mother and I take care of her and I need to get to my son... I'm barren but I have a son and.. I need a few dollars for gas."

I stared at her for a second, trying to make out what she had just told me. The words sort of blurred together around the edges and faded away every time she turned to face the old black woman in the passanger seat who was doing her best to not pay attention to this entire exchange. They both looked tired. As it turns out, however, I am not a good Christian. And rather than split up my money for oil I just started laughing. I couldn't help it. It was that edgy, crazy kind of laughter that isn't so much mirthful as unraveled. I felt a little unraveled. I told her that I was putting the last of my money into my gas tank as we spoke. I don't know if she believed me, but in either case she was quick to get away from me. I don't blame her.

The trip itself wasn't bad. The sun was bright and the traffic was light. It wasn't until I hit Savannah that the sky seemed to open up and my visibility went to nil at about the same time as my gas light urged my attention. It took me ten minutes to get off the exit ramp and then a bit more to figure out where I was and how to cross the median. I probably should have paid a little more attention to just why the gas station I was eyeing was empty in all this rain despite the crazy number of cars getting in my way. Maybe then I wouldn't have wound up in a puddle that made my engine lurch as water washed over the front of my car as I took a nose dive. Amazingly I made it to high(ish) ground in a McDonalds parking lot and waited 45 minutes to figure out a plan to get me to 1. a gas station and 2. the interstate. It took some creative driving and a good amount of praying but I made it. Hopefully my car isn't the worse for wear. We'll see.

Safe in Fernandia I'm trying to keep in mind all the things I'm thankful for and try not to spin off into an anxiety fit as I check my bank account and make lists of things I need to accomplish ASAP. It's hard, sometimes, to keep in mind that this is all part of the adventure. That life is all in the messy bits and how you come through it matters more than if you succeed perfectly on the first go.

And you know what? I may not make it to SOLAR this weekend, but I found my travel snail and it's enough to get me to Burning Man. Things are looking up.