We drove past the rolling Illinois farmland late into the night. The sky was warm with orange and pink. It was the night of the summer solstice, light lingering longer than any other day of the year. It reminded me of late summer nights in northern Minnesota sitting at the campfire when I wouldn’t realize how late it actually was because the sky was still so light. My heart ached as these Interstates went flying by. Just how many times have we traveled these roads between Nashville and Minneapolis? I recognize the names of the cities on the road signs: Farmer City, Ogelby, Mattoon. I know where the bend in the road is where the giant windmills wave as we go past. How many bagels with summer sausage and cheese have we eaten as we listened to Jungle Jam and Friends:The Radio Show? How many bags of Twizzlers, carrots, and sunflower seeds have we gone through? How many times have I taken pictures of the kids at the mouse & cheese statue where we buy cheese curds in Wisconsin? Actually I probably could count the photo. There are photos in the sunshine, in the rain, in the snow, and at night.
There was the time we discovered kittens at a rest stop and a different time that Aunt Kay brought a kitten home in the hood of her sweatshirt. There have been games of tag at the rest stops in the summer and snow ball fights in the winter. There have been times we’ve run out of gas. Times that we’ve been stuck in traffic for hours. There have been the times the heater went out in freezing temps and times the a/c went out in heat-breaking temps.
But mostly there have been hours and hours of driving between the two places I call home. It is a picture of the time between the now and the not quite yet. And on the evening of the summer solstice, my heart ached as I watch the light linger beautifully in the clouds, changing shapes and colors as the clouds moved across the sky and as the sun set in the horizon. The roads between two homes holding the tension between the now and the not quite yet.
