The Three Greatest Sounds in the World

According to George Bailey (from It's A Wonderful Life for you poor souls who might not know), the three greatest sounds in the world are train whistles, plane engines and anchor chains. This is not a stupid man. See, I'm a traveler. I have been aware of haivng wanderlust since before I knew the word. When I was very young, my mother used to tell me that, had I been born in medieval times, I would have bound my breasts and been a wandering bard. To this day, I like the idea. In West African astrology, my sign is the Traveler. That symbol was my first tattoo and lives on my hip as a gentle reminder against complacency.

One year, I was between the ages of six and eight (we were living in Texas so I know the age range if not the exact age), my grandparents gave me my very own suitcase for Christmas. It was dark blue with hot pink flowers (the 70's people, the 70's) and was the most amazing thing I had ever seen, let alone owned. I literally ached to use it. I even packed it, just in case. My parents refused to check me into a hotel in order to try it out. Not even my promises to sit quietly and not leave the room could persuade them ~ TTG!

Even now, thirty years later, nothing gives me the same thrill as buying the next plane ticket or standing in an airport. But it doesn't have to be a great adventure or even have a destination. Sometimes, it's better when it doesn't.

I love to drive. Put the window down, turn on the music and go. It feeds the wanderlust nicely without me having to drop a ton of cash. At one point, again while we were in Texas, I saw two pictures. One was of the California coast. The other was the New England coast. Immediately, I knew I wanted to drive those roads. I even knew how: the West cried out for a convertible; the East demanded a motorcycle.

To and from Nemeria's wedding, I found another drive I want to take again. Route 15. The Merritt. Hutchinson Parkway. It had several names just in the short time I was on it. The trees canopy overhead. The roads winds. The temperature is a good five to ten degrees lower. Even in my hurried excitement to get to Nemeria and my exhausted readiness to get home, I couldn't help but slow down, breathe it in.

Come autumn, I will make this drive. For no reason but to relish it. I have no idea how long it is, where it goes or if it stays that beautiful. I'll find out. And love every minute of it.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.