reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: away from home


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explore. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

there is something about a train platform that makes you feel like an explorer. not necessarily like ferdinand magellan or lewis and clark or amelia earhart or jacques cousteau or edmund hillary and tenzing norgay or jane goodall or neil armstrong or sally ride, but maybe something more along the lines of maybe erma bombeck on errands or a fantastically prolific carole king in a new recording studio or an unabashed meg ryan on a new romcom set, slightly more tame, but nonetheless full of infinite possibility that might inspire your muse.

we have been on this particular platform many times – well, for people who live in wisconsin, anyway. it is often relatively empty when we wait on this side – the northbound side – later at night.

it is always after a really full day – rich in time with our son, eventful, fun, alive. we are usually pretty tired on this platform as we wait for our train, incoming from downtown. and we are usually talking about the day, reviewing all we have seen and heard and how really full the day was.

and there are always moments we realize that it feels like we have been away from home – like this one day – when we spent many hours traveling down, being in the city and then traveling back – it feels like way more than just the hours in one day.

exploring is supposed to be like that, i believe. you are supposed to feel like you have been away – away from everything that is usual. instead you have stepped away into time that is reserved for new experiences, for new people, for new ideas, for expanding what you knew into more. even if only to the metropolitan city that is just down the road from you, exploring opens you.

it’s one of the reasons we love watching youtubes of people doing thru-hikes, people climbing ridiculous mountains, people free-soloing and people snowboarding in the back country. it’s one of the reasons we love non-fiction and autobiographical/biographical narrative. it’s all different from our own lives and some of it is crazy stuff, but – vicariously – we can feel the energy of exploration and it feeds ours.

though right now we are minimally physically exploring ‘out-there’ – not traveling the way we would – we are reading, viewing, researching, adventuring as we can.

wide-open exploration is not something insurmountable – it is as minimal as reading an opinion that is opposite of yours, it is questioning what you know, it is trying something new, it is pushing one tiny self-imposed limit, it is going away even if you don’t go away, it is opening your mind to the imaginings of an empty train platform late at night.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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quilts > duvets. [k.s. friday]

…and i will comfort you…

given a choice, we will stay in airbnbs. they are homes – real people’s places where they laid their heads – and they offer a comfort that hotels just can’t.

perhaps i have never stayed in a hotel resort that reaches its arms around me, snugged into its chest. it is true. i haven’t ever been to an all-inclusive. when we hotel-it, we stay at the hampton inn, where they offer breakfast and wash the duvet cover daily. they are very clean, mostly updated, the beds are goldilocks-worthy and there is a refrigerator and microwave for the food we are carrying with us.

we arrived in richmond, kentucky on a thursday evening. a fire truck was diagonally across the road, blocking it, and my heart flipped a little, wondering what might have happened. instead, a small town, it was the night of the homecoming parade. we got to the corner by our airbnb, but only to the corner. it was the final approach for the parade route and the police officer at the corner stopped us with a sheepish smile, “just pull over and watch.” he added, “sorry”.

we weren’t sorry. it was a delight to see the parade up close and personal and we cheered and the high school football team threw us candy. after all the convertibles with king and queen candidates drove by and the final police car with lights, the police officer allowed us to turn toward our lodging.

we wrote to andrew, the host of our roomy and perfectly-appointed loft, just to let him know what a joy it was to pull into his town and find such fun. he responded immediately. a real person. a real home. he pays attention. we sat on the tiny balcony and sipped wine while the church carillon rang out post-parade. after more than eight hours on the road, we felt comforted.

the little house in brevard was known to us. we stayed there before. so we knew exactly what we would find…a home with a front porch… our window into the tiny mountain town. we chose to stay there again because it had held us the first time…in comfort. home away from home.

the ukulele band i directed played the van morrison song “comfort you”. “i want to comfort you. i want to comfort you. i want to comfort you. just let your tears run wild like when you were a child. i’ll do what i can do. i want to comfort you. you put the weight on me…i want to comfort you.”

comfort, invisibly wrapping us, giving us pause.

i can think of nothing more important in these times – really, any times – but especially these times – than people comforting other people. the capacity for a human to give reassurance and hope to another must surpass all efforts to compete, to one-up, to undermine. surely as the south begins to clean up from hurricane ian, the evidence is obvious.

i will comfort you – words unspoken perhaps – but deeds spell it all out. people loving one another.

quilts > duvets.

*****

AND GOODNIGHT ©️ 2005 kerri sherwood

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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

and the parade greets us as we arrive