Sometimes, when I’m feeling completely drained and uninspired, I have to get away from everything.
When I moved to Lexington (pop: over 300,000) from Lancaster (pop: under 4,000), I was enamored with Lexington’s abundance. Whatever Lancaster had, Lexington had more. People. Cars. Buildings. Schools. Libraries. Stores. Cars. Farms. Parks. Gyms. Restaurants. Cars.
It took about two years for that to get really, really old. I still enjoy the things Lexington has to offer, but every now and then, I need to escape it. I have to find a way to get out, even if it’s just for a day. I crave silence and space, and a reminder that life really is fairly simple.
I love road trips for this very reason. I get to be alone in my car with my thoughts and my music, and it gives me time to recharge. I found a song several years ago that so perfectly describes the feeling I get when I finally have some alone time, and I’m sharing it with you here now.
All At Sea by Jamie Cullum (excerpt)
I’m all at sea where no one can bother me.
I sleep by myself. I drink on my own.
I don’t speak to nobody; I gave away my phone…
Like a warm drink that seeps into my soul,
Please just leave me right here on my own.
Later on you could spend some time with me,
If you want to,
All at sea.
You guys. Giving away my phone and going back to a time when I could actually disappear from everything for a while is kind of my dream.
Sometimes I get so caught up in life–the day-to-day routine of things where I go to bed at night and can’t remember a single thing I did that day–that I sort of lose myself. Writing is one way I keep in touch with who I am, but sometimes I’m so lost I can’t even put words together.
One of my favorite road trips is the short one to my childhood home. The hundred-year-old farmhouse and five acres of land I grew up on is only about forty miles from where I live now. Everyone who knows me is well aware of my love affair with my parents’ home. It’s the most beautiful, peaceful place I’ve ever known.
The constant activity of my days can make time pass entirely too quickly. As I get closer and closer to home, everything slows down–the minutes stretch on forever and the houses move farther and farther apart.
That front porch is the only place I can be completely alone without shutting any doors. I do my best thinking there. The solitude gives me a chance to remember who I am and what’s important to me. I can’t sit on that porch with that view and not take a moment to appreciate everything I have. It’s so easy to get lost in the minute details of life, the things that won’t make a difference a month or year from now, and I find myself just trying to make it from one day to the next. The peace and quiet found on my parents’ porch inspires me to be the kind of person who doesn’t get so caught up in looking forward that I forget to stop and truly enjoy the present.