Day 66 – June 9, 2014
On the road, I’m greeted with great enthusiasm. Hosts press me to come back soon. My scintillating personality may not win people over, but my compelling story might. I inhabit the legend of the wandering minstrel with speaking lines like:
“Last week a herd of buffalo almost ran me over in North Dakota… we ate gruyere at the picnic in Montreal… I don’t know where next week will come: Duluth? New York City?”
People that are stationary, by dint of a new family, contented home, or pressing job, do gravitate towards my story. One woman remarked that I smelled like freedom. I may need to shower more. A coworker, shackled to his four kids, asked me to pack him along.
There’s a tradition of landed gentry supporting wandering minstrels. I trade tales of the road in exchange for a hot meal and the warmth of a fire. I open the bag of tricks in my car and present a life differently lived.
It’s not that I live better. Nobody wants to give up beautiful kids and a well-appointed house to live out of their car and tackle the uncertainty of travel. Yet when I pass through, my hosts glimpse the road and the possibility to sever the bonds of career. People want alternatives to bad work days and dead-end jobs.
Furthermore, I no longer have work hanging over me. I slowly shed my former taught anxiety. I can be more patient, engaged, and entertaining. My time feels abundant. I have no flight to catch. I am here to see you.