The Road to Home

What a day. I just got home to this lonely house. Why can’t I seem to get here before dark? Well, I did today, but just barely. I don’t like coming home after dark. Sure, if I’m out doing something and it turns to night, that’s just fine. But I’m coming home from work. You go to work, you work, you leave, and you get home. For me, hopefully home comes sooner than later. I got to spend an entire day here for the first time this weekend. I woke up to the sun, and was here to see it set that night. It was nice.

The road to my home is long and windy (hmm…full of twists and turns?). You can go faster than the posted speed limit, but only for a short time, then you hit hard turns that you must slow down for. The drive is absolutely beautiful. Farmland and woods for as far as you can see. Off in the distance to the east, mountains loom up, pushing the horizon up above the tree line. I can see them on the drive here…I just wish I could see them from my yard. Maybe I can when the leaves fall off.

Have you seen them? The leaves? They are not just changing to brown this year. Last year, it seemed like they didn’t go through the beautiful changes…the reds, oranges, and yellows that make this time of year such a sight to behold. It seemed like they were green, then they were brown and on the ground. Anyway, just before you get to my place, there is an open field that used to be a forest. Trees are still there, just patches of them in lieu of the closely placed trees that make a forest. Along the road, between the pavement and the edge of the trees, flowers fill the space, making a sea of yellow waves. Well, they were there. I guess they got mowed down last week. Well, more than mowed. The ground looks like it was plowed up as well. I hated to see the flowers go.

On the road to my home there are chickens, horses, cows, mules and I wouldn’t be surprised to see ostriches or emus as well. Next door to me is a field with a cow and a mule. That cow has a cowbell around its neck. No need to ask for more cowbell…I swear that cow doesn’t sleep. I hear that cowbell late at night. Shouldn’t Bossy be in bed at midnight? The mule doesn’t do much except for look at me while I’m in the yard. He acts like he wants to come over to the fence and say hi, but I think he is just too shy to do it. Beyond the stream at the bottom of my property, there are horses and mules. And in the yard next to me at the top of my property, there are 5 (or is it 6?) Petite Yapping Chihuahuas. It is funny to see them bark at me when I come out of my house and stop when the door is closed behind me. Open the door…yap, yap, yap. Shut the door…silence. Oh yeah. Just up the road there is…get this…a wrestling ring in someone’s front yard. I kid you not. I have even seen some dudes in tights practicing their wrestling moves. Not the kind of wrestling you see in high school. This is the wrestling with actors playing their parts on television. Professional wrestling, if you could call it that. I need to get a picture of that ring…it’s just too good.

On the road to my home, there is this smell. It isn’t a wonderful smell such as fresh gingerbread cookies just removed from the oven or the faint scent of strategically placed Egyptian Goddess or Patchouli. It smells like Essence of Cow Field mixed with Eau de Chicken House. I don’t know why, but by the time I reach home, the smell is gone. It is surprising to me that the smell isn’t here as well because of all the livestock right next door. I’m not complaining though. I have been around chicken houses enough times to know that nausea-inducing smell. I’m so glad that the wind always seems to be blowing in the right direction.

On the road to my home there is this noise. In my bus, it is usually the sound of wind and the creaking (as long as the stereo is off, which isn’t very often…but sometimes it is) of a 30 year old vehicle bouncing down the road, faithfully taking me where I command. But the other noise I speak of is the sound of silence. Not complete silence, but the silence you get way out here, away from the busy highway just two miles down the road. Away from noise pollution. Almost (but not quite) off the grid. Sitting on my front porch at night, the crickets and frogs compete to see who is the loudest. Hummingbirds fly in to sup from the feeders. The mules in the field across the stream make this sound that is like maniacal laughter. The cowbell is clanging as the cow makes the slightest move. And I swear that I have heard coyotes out here. After a rain, the stream rises and runs a little faster, bubbling and creating voices you can hear if you just listen long and hard enough.

On the road to my home there is time. It’s a good 30 minutes to Ooltewah. 20 minutes to Cleveland. 30 minutes or so to Dalton. There is time enough for the mind to start wandering if I let it. Today was a wandering day. On the drive home from my old house, I start thinking. Even with Tool cranking on the stereo, I was thinking. Maynard couldn’t sing loud enough to distract me from thoughts. Thoughts about how messed up my life is right now, how can I reach the rim of this hole I’m in. Every time I seem to have a grip on the edge, it crumbles away and I’m left with only a handful of dirt and grass. I don’t know…can men have the apparent emotional upheaval that women have once a month with the arrival of Aunt Flo? I swear we do, or at least I do. Tonight is a full moon. I can almost feel the pull of the glowing white orb floating in the sky, pulling whatever is deep inside me to the surface. Maybe that was what was happening today. My body knew that a pull was about to take place and was going ahead and pushing from deep within. At any rate, I was quite depressed by the time I got home. I vainly fought back tears that were coming for no apparent reason. I soon immersed myself in cooking supper for one, unpacking a few boxes, and sitting in front of the computer, thinking about what I was going to say tonight. I knew it had to do with coming home, but didn’t really know until I sat down.

Just like the road to my home, the emotional road to my home that I am on is long and winding. I can’t get to going real fast for “S” curves are up ahead and I could easily run off the road if I’m not careful. Sometimes there are unpleasant things, such as the smells I smell on the way home. I just hope I don’t smell them when I get there. Sometimes life gets noisy and I wish for silence; the kind of silence with a little white noise. Then there are the beautiful things, like the sea of yellow flowers, the whirring of a hummingbird coming to feed, the babbling brook carrying on a conversation with itself, maybe even saying something to me. The words seen on a computer monitor from a face that brings joy as soon as it pops up in front of me. Even that confounded cowbell…beautiful things that remind me that life is like that. Up and down, sad and happy, evil and angelic. Just to keep things in balance, there is an ugly for every beautiful, a cry for every laughter, sadness for every joy. I just wish the scales wouldn’t tip so far in the wrong direction all the time.

I haven’t told many people, but I might be in for a change. This change may even transform who I am, creating in me a new form of patience and love for my fellow man. I love my work, I really do. I work with my hands and that is something I am good at, doing things with my hands…ahem. Yeah. But even though I love it, I may be getting tired of it. Not just the work, but the way that I’m not getting paid what I think I am worth for what I am doing. This change may not bring more pay, but I think that it might bring more satisfaction. I have been working with products for so long; maybe it is time for a change. I am thinking of working with people. I applied for another job today. I applied for a job that some people might wonder, “What in the world are you thinking? I could never do that.” What is this job? I applied to work with the mentally handicapped. There is a place called Open Arms Care across the street from where I currently work. I walked over there last week and inquired about what it takes to work there. I was told that all I needed was a high school diploma and a valid driver’s license. I have those, but that wasn’t exactly what I was talking about. I meant what kind of person do I need to be to do a job like that. Would I have the patience for it? Can I handle working in a home environment taking care of the daily needs of some people who can’t take care of those needs themselves? Could I even take on the responsibility of (gasp) their personal hygiene? And even though it shouldn’t be a criteria, what about the money? Do I think that the wages earned are worth the work and the responsibility entrusted to me? With the way things are nowadays, money is a big issue.

I’m going to go sit outside for a while. Tomorrow is going to come quick. I must work and then…and then I get to refill myself with some joy. I can’t wait. I have missed this joy for a short period of time, but it seems like it has been a lifetime. But for now, I am going to sit and listen to the night sounds, smell the country smells, and think about the future, starting with tomorrow.

I can’t wait.