Healing has finally reached full speed and we know no better way to celebrate than to get back out on the roads less travelled. Both my husband and his Ducati have been through rehab and are now reunited. But to err on the side of caution, Kevin is taking the road back on 4 wheels for another two months. At least for the long rides.
A soul needs to wander, to explore, and breathe in what the modern world deems outdated. On our first road trip since Kevin's motorcycle accident we headed from Houston to Fort Worth on what I like to call the "rural express". Texas Farm to Market roads are the best medicine for the newly healed. Curvy rural blacktop goodness between pastures, small churches, and long-dried-up gas stations provide therapy not available anywhere else in the world. Fields of wildflowers ignite the countryside in bright orange, purple, and red under a crystal blue cloudless sky. If FM 339 could be bottled, the intoxication level would be 100 proof euphoria.
To our surprise, we rediscovered a farm we explored years ago and though we forgot its exact location it has been ever present in our minds. A simple white farmhouse. Small, but with high ceilings and a wide front porch with a sweeping view of endless green fields of corn. Two massive red barns hug the corner of the country road. Five years ago the property was for sale but being in such a rural location made it out of our geographical reach. Apparently it was never purchased and when we turned the corner and saw the tell tale barn our hearts soared, then sank. Mother Nature had our barn in a choke hold, having already reclaimed the house.
We took our time exploring the dilapidated structures, listening to the busy hum of bee colonies nesting in the walls, cautiously stepping to avoid hidden snakes, and romped through the broken house undaunted by a cranky screech owl nesting in the rafters. An old piano sat vacated in the living room, yellow sheet music scattered by years of wind through the walls. I imagined the soft keyed notes on the prairie air as I looked through the poured glass window panes.
There is magic in this place. I knew it the first time I saw her. I've never shed the belief that one day I will rebuild her sister on my own land. Often I've drawn her from memory trying to relay to others this mythical house I crave.
Having to get to Fort Worth, I said a lengthy farewell to my muse. From between the front porch columns, under the wary eye of the owl, I silently thanked God for the peace of this place and the gift He has sent me in keeping Kevin safe. I understand the owl and her staunch need to defend what she sees as hers, her kingdom of peace, for I have done the same.
LOVE & WANDER