Once again, I discovered the wonderful ability of audiobooks to minimize the monotonous lull of boredom that the plains of Oklahoma are capable of producing. Getting into the story, it felt like no time at all before I made it to Springfield, MO...even if my eyes were burning and my head was pounding from driving virtually non-stop for three and a half hours. Pulling into the parking lot of a local Wal-Mart, I was excited to see my friend Ashley as she arrived to pick me up and take me to lunch. Ashley is one of my friends from middle school, with whom I continue to maintain a strong friendship despite the fact that we only attended school together for one year, ten years ago. Anyway, she lives in Springfield now, and since I pass right through Springfield, we made plans to go to lunch.
This was possibly the best plan we've ever come up with.
Usually, my road-trip stops include rest stops and fast food - the kinds of stops designed to take a minimal amount of time and get you back on the road as soon as possible (thereby not providing much real "rest"). But, armed with the excuse of having lunch with an old friend, I took a good two and a half hour break. That's a REAL rest stop. Ashley took me to this family-owned Italian restaurant called Bambinos, which is hidden away in the middle of an old neighborhood and which serves up a FANTASTIC Greek pasta - penne, feta cheese, some fancy Greek olive, spinach, roasted red pepper. And bread with olive oil. I love places that let me dip bread in olive oil. After a great lunch and great conversation, we went and got frozen custard at Andy's (a favorite of Springfield-ites, so I'm told), where I ordered a "small" peanut butter and brownie concrete mixture, but it was really the size of a generous medium soda. In true frozen-custard-establishment style, we sat on the curb leaning against the building, eating our ice cream and dodging bugs and laughing and talking about our lives. It was all fantastic. But, of course, all good things must come to an end, and eventually I bid Ashley goodbye and hit the road again for the remaining three hours to my family's home in St. Louis suburbia.
The rest of the trip passed uneventfully. I listened to the audiobook the whole way (pretty sure audiobooks are my new favorite thing), and eventually made it back. Something did hit me as I approached my family's home, though - Missouri is beautiful. Really. It's gorgeous. Driving up through the twisting hills, covered in leafy forests with glimpses of valleys flashing between the trees, I realized that I grew up in a beautiful place. My childhood home is in the suburbs, certainly, but on the edge of the suburbs. These hills, I realized, are like a part of me...just seeing them, and driving through them, is like my past embracing me as I return for a brief visit. Even though it was hot and humid, I rolled down my window as I drove through the twisty stretches of Highway 100 through Grey Summit, I extended my left arm to its full length out the window, feeling the hot air pushing back at me. And I felt that intriguing dichotomy that is the present come over me, that focus on the future that is inextricably tied to the past. We live our entire lives in the present, and yet the presents become pasts and the future is nothing more than a series of presents that have yet to be lived. And we fight our way forward, surrounded by our hopes and our memories like I was surrounded by those hills, pushing against obstacles just as my arm cut tirelessly through the air as I sped down the road.
And as I arrived home, fully cognizant of my past and enthralled with the possibilities of my future, I found myself happy to be in a place where time comes together, where past and present meld together and the promise of the future shines brightly out of the corner of my eye.
