Out And About

I missed writing yesterday. It's because I am on a road trip, along with David and Shelby. It's so cool to be on the road again, watching the miles fly by, admiring the majestic mountains, the seemingly endless forests. To fly down the highway, from prairie to peak, overland, in and out of valleys, from pass to pass; it's an adventurer's life, one I miss so much.

It was the same with my boat, to get on board and go, simply to explore, to wonder about what was around the next bend in the shoreline, after the next narrows, beyond those islands up there. I am compelled to remind myself that I have had a lifetime of this, between waterway and highway, seeing what might be beyond whatever lay next in front of me.

Nonetheless, I am sad. On this trip David and Shelby are doing the driving. I am tucked away neatly in the back seat, out of conversational distance. Thanks to the van windows, I have a decent view, but only at essentially eye level. I can't look up, seeing the mountaintops off in the distance, barren of snow, shimmering in the summer heat. Now if only a bear, a deer, an elk, even a moose were to wander alongside the road. That would be something to see.

The effort involved in getting me road worthy is something to see too. These days it takes a portable lift, a sling, a full suitcase of medical supplies, and another small suitcase for my clothing. Eliminate all the acoutrements of illness. All you are left with are a few shirts, some pants, socks, underwear. Yet with ALS, it takes two other people to ensure I can travel, get into bed, get out of bed, do all the things I need to do. It is no easy task. I am grateful that David has made this work, that Shelby is continuing to care for me on the road. I can still get out and about. That's the good part.