Sometime during the wee hours of the morning, we were awakened by the pounding of rain against our window. The winds were whipping at hurricane speed. Half-awake, we conferred with each other and agreed that there would be a good few hours of camping out at the adjacent Starbucks in our future. Now we had an excuse to sleep in and try to rest off some of the soreness from decimating walls over the weekend.
We slept through the continental breakfast with no concern. Instead, a sliver of our well-earned dollars were put towards dining at IHOP. From there it was a few hours at Starbucks, catching up on respective journals as we let the storm take a welcomed lead. The staff at Econolodge were kind enough to let us store our gear in a back room and keep the bikes parked and covered while we waited out the residual drizzle from the monstrosity that had passed through in the early morning. A few hours later, the sun was ablaze in the sky. Nature's ways are enigmatic.
On the sunny cruise toward Columbus, the autumnal foliage began to return. I inhaled deeply upon first inhalation of the potent sweetness of decaying leaves. For the nostalgia alone of many years of Braun mantime raking leaves, jumping in leaf piles, wandering endlessly and aimlessly through woods, and a general adoration of all things Fall, this scent intimates the divine. More recently, the symbolism of the decomposing leaves having fallen from the tree, sacrificing themselves to fertilize their origin - formally articulating this, while always having sensed its significance as far back as I can recall, albeit with a more childish innocence - has drawn an even larger circle around the personal importance of this saccharine odor. I also noticed for the first time autumnberry bushes along the highway - an invasive species yielding berries that pack 13 times the lycopene of a tomato. More warm memories returned, this time of a magical evening where Eva and I left the farm right before sunset on a mission to pick as many autumn berries as possible at one of her "secret locations" (because of their invasiveness, it is illegal in MA to replant the bush, which is why we had to hunt them down elsewhere than the farm). My desire to return home was increasing exponentially - the waiting game remaining was yet another exercise in patience.
After a month on the road, our rhythm on the road has become clockwork. We are two appendages of one mind - anticipating each other and the surrounding traffic, understanding each scenario with the same eyes, even running nearly identical bathroom schedules.
We were headed toward Columbus, OH, to stay with Lucas - an old friend of mine I hadn't seen in many moons - his girlfriend Sarah, their dog Ruby, and cats BeeBee and Harold. They had relocated from Maine because Sarah had a full scholarship to OSU (which, we came to find, has the largest student body in the country - 60,000 undergrads). Luke texted me en route regarding the terror-storm's sweeping of his neck of the woods, and sent safe wishes for our travel. Miraculously, we dodged yet another pummeling, and arrived on the soaked streets of Columbus dry as a bone.
Lucas and Sarah's hospitality was right up there with the warmth and generosity of the Caninos. Being around cats again made me miss my guys tremendously. I compensated by smothering Harold (BeeBee is an outdoor cat, and more of a loner - I respect that). Luke is the kind of friend that one picks right back up where one left off without skipping a beat - time and distance never indicates a weakened relationship. The four of us chatted for a good while, sharing stories from the excellent adventure, and hearing about their life in Columbus and their desire to return to New England, and various tangents therein. Sarah eventually headed up early to tackle some work for the following day while Luke, Snake and I talked in depth over local suds before drifting into the wee hours with a slide show from the road. We were set up with beds, and cautioned about the possibility of furry visitors during the course of the night. Missing my feline counterparts more than ever, I couldn't wait.
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