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  • Sara Moore

Long and Winding Road

I spent this weekend in three different places with about 6 hours of driving.  I have an older gps and I'm pretty sure it is simply programed to take me on the scenic route instead of well traveled roads.  Sometimes I'm totally aggravated by this, like when it's the middle of winter and I'm on more of a roller coaster laced with frost heaves.  Other times, like yesterday, I enjoyed being lost in the back woods of Maine. 

Yesterday I was on my way home from Augusta, ME after doing readings from 11am to 5pm straight.  I had a blast and the energy there was fantastic!  Every one assumes that after a long day I'm exhausted.  That's not usually true, because I am not using my energy to convey your messages.  I am, however, using my voice, so that gets tired.  Beyond that I'm often quite wired and need the drive home to decompress. 

I had my radio on (I'm a shuffler and flip around until I find a song I like) and felt the urge to sing along, tired voice and all.  I sang with Queen, Brandi Carlile, some 80's favorites, a bunch of country, sad sappy songs and everything in between.  I have learned to pay attention to my gps because I've missed many a turn because the voice commands were deafened by the radio.  Oops!  Having no idea where you are in an interesting thing.  I was at peace wtih it, trusting that some mechanical device was going to lead me home. 

Some of the towns seemed familiar to me, but there were a few I'm thinking only the locals know about!  One little town had such a stunning and scenic center.  Huge old white houses with barns, all restored and looking like it did over a hundred years ago.  I could imagine myself in one of them.  Then I wondered how far it would be to the grocery store or schools.  I'll stay where I am for now!  Then I popped out near Oxford, ME.  There is a casino and a racetrack.  Ok, I knew I was at least headed in the right direction.

What do you think about when you drive?  My mind is all over the place.  I wonder if there's moose or deer in the woods waiting for the perfect moment to scare the crap out of me.  I wonder who built the rock walls and what happened to them.  I wonder who is buried in the little cemetaries tucked into the small openings in now overgrown trees.  I look at the old barns, sagging under the weight of many years and I always feel sadness.  I had a converstaion with myself about this last night when I was in farmland.  It was set back from the road, off to my left.  There was an overgrown field and rock walls outlining the perimeter.  You could tell that at one time it was alive.  How does something go from so strong, alive and necessary begin to lean and deteoriate to this degree?  Is it because it happens so gradually no one notices until it's too far gone?  Or did the people move on from the land.  And why is no one going into these barns and taking pictures and tellin their stories? 

I do think that crumbling barns are one of the saddest things I see when I'm on these long and winding roads.  They hurt my heart.  I want to go in and tell them I love them.  Sounds so ridiculous, huh?  But it's true!  And then I want to know what happened.  Maybe some day I'll have a beautiful barn and I'll tell it every day how much I appreciate it. 

Well, I think I may have gone off on another tangent.  No surprise there, huh?!  I am so glad to be home today.  I have a few phone readings but plan on going for a run with the dog, perhaps taking a nap (aka, staring at the ceiling thinking) and reflecting on a fantastic weekend. 

Enjoy your day!  If you see an old sad barn, send it some love for me.

Sara

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