Saturday

One of those epic days, with so many emotions, so many landscapes, so many people, songs, miles…

We finally left the city at around 2:30. Waved goodbye to San Francisco, took a picture of the Bay Bridge as we crossed. Something about the crossing of water marks the true beginning of a journey. Sufjan Stevens’ album “Illinoise” provided the perfect musical backdrop…the first of the new road music. Edgy and tender, which is how I felt. The discussion between Moona and I centered around missing our loved ones… and the conclusion that one of the consequences of loving truly and fully means missing those absent. And also realizing that the feeling of missing someone in and of itself creates connection. So we felt sad. And we felt excited.

Moona said, as we crossed the bridge, “This is going to be a good trip.” And I felt the same. Over the course of the past week I have been given tokens by several dear ones, and these are prominently displayed on the dashboard altar. So it feels like they come too. And so much love surrounds us… and we carry many blessings.

The pain of leaving was soothed by the miles of road. Heading east on I-80, through the Sierras, with a nod to Donner Pass and those travelers whose journey ended there. What is this need to move forward? To seek? Leaving California, with the familial tradition of honking horn at state lines, the Nevada high mountain desert swallowed up sorrow. Favorite quote of the day was from Moona, gazing out at what was once a salty sea, and now is flat desert, with occasional sagebrush: “It’s a big world, mom!”

The new Moby album suited us well on this leg, and after stopping in Reno for supplies and to make a decision on where the road ended for us tonight, I was surprised by looking at the speedometer, which was somehow reading 102 m.p.h. Could that really be so? Flat, straight, sunset… no traffic, full tank… yes, indeedy, it was true. Slowed down, but relished that particular moment. I was almost driving as fast as the high temperature of the day… 109 degrees in Sacramento.

And the day ends with us, sleeping in the tent surrounded by Nevadians, at Rye Patch State Recreation Area. RVs abound, as do mosquitos, much to Moona’s dismay. But she did say from the depths of the bug-free tent while I unpacked “I can see the silvery moon!” and the wonder in her voice in all three of her quotes today resonates somewhere deep within. Let her eyes make mine fresh again.

My practice of today, and perhaps this trip, is to say “yes” more. So, yes. Yes to mosquitos and RVs and too much technology and prisoners in the Nevada desert. Yes to sadness and excitement and hot springs. Tomorrow that is our goal. Wash clean and purify, before going to find God. Yes to God.