Check our my web feature, A Riverfront Ode to Kansas City,

celebrating Kansas City and rail-trail endeavors!

Endless

Endless. Horizon stretching unbearable, blues shading into greens, teals, purples--white snow sharp against misty prospect.

How did we get here, to the eagle-sight of Oregon, to the clean air that fills us like wine and sweeps through us like water? Do invisible ties bind us to the sultry heat of Missouri, where crops wither and folks take shelter? As we stand on the snow and our feet sink into the icy crystals, as we clutch each other for balance and laugh in startled delight, do our souls ascend to the heavens, since we're so much closer now?

The faces we've basked in--those behind us engaging in post-wedding revelry, those of family familiar to us in their sorrow and their joy, those of new companions of the road--fill our hearts now, papering the walls of our internal rooms with mystery. We are the product of all that has come before--we are ancient, we are infants. We dance in the freedom of life and we bend under the weight of experience.

At the summit of Mt. Hood, we pause for a family picture. Sublimity and prosaic reality intersect. Life eddies and swirls around us. We breath. We exist.

We are endless.

Companionship of the Road

We drove today for endless hours across South Dakota's wide-spread hills and plateaus, the throaty sound of motorcycles roaring by, the sky soft with dappling clouds. We hit the border during the Sturgis festival so surrounding us at all times (hemming us in, shooting amused and hostile glances at us, and alternately passing then holding us back) were tanned, tough-looking bikers. We thought of our friends who'd give a tailpipe to be here, and fretted against the traffic.

Eire has done well on this trip, riding for over 7,300 miles with aplomb. Sometimes we can just hear her saying "Boring, boring" and sometimes we hear nothing because her toys--gangly Mr. Giraffe, spiny purple Fishy-Ball, or Millie the Worm--absorb her interest. Or we hear her plopping her pacifier in and out of her perfect mouth, gnawing on her thumb, or sucking on her arm.

We fill our time with gawking at the lovely scenery--the craggy majesty of the Mission mountains, the bleak plateaus of Wyoming, the lush Columbia River Gorge, and take turns pointing out bumper stickers (like my favorite today, "Where the HELL is Wall Drug?"), dilapidated buildings, interesting people, and unique vehicles. We read out loud--or rather, I do, since Michael's driven all but fifteen minutes of the six weeks--from short stories, or poetry, or "The Picture of Dorian Grey." We listen to music ranging from Tool to Dylan to Oscar Carcamo. We share visions and dreams. We argue, and make up.

This is the companionship of the road in the McIntyre family. Living in our truck, sleeping in campgrounds and parking lots and loved ones's homes, we have made our way across the country from Missouri to the west coast and back again. Tonight, in Sioux Falls, just six hours away from home and all we hold sacred, I am filled with the crazy conflict that comes with saying goodbye to a chapter in my life and hello to the next. I will miss the quiet morning miles, the coffee kedged from shops ranging from awful to astounding, and the knowledge that anything can happen and probably will.

Tomorrow we pull into Kansas City and plunge back into life. In one way it will be as if it hever changed--the waters of life will part and close over our heads and we will be back in our accustomed places, among familiar faces. But in another way it will be different, because we are different. We have been changed subtly, in increments, by the people and the places we have met along the way, by the challenges and the comforts, by the wisdom of learning more about ourselves and each other.

I am eager and reluctant, joyful and grieved. In this paradox of life I willingly step forward. Greetings Kansas City. Goodbye everywhere else--we'll return someday, not so long from now.

A Couple Weeks in the Life of a 3-Month-Old

we...

thought deep thoughts on Daddy's lap

met and loved aunt allie

wore an awesome sundress and visited the coffee shop

pulled some shots with daddy

got a bumbo chair (which means we can sit by ourselves)

listened to daddy play bouzouki

visited uncle kevin and pat

ate mexican with grandma and grandpa

looked at a lake

and went to mommy's favorite thai restaurant

they were good weeks.

Check out my article, "Coming of Age on the Katy Trail",

 released Sunday by the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy Group!