The Perspective of a Blackbird

Chapter 2

Not everything I told Malaki was true. Most of it was, but not all of it. Yes, I am quitting my service job. Yes, I am moving out of Seaside, Oregon. But no, I am not heading to Brazil.

Once I left the restaurant I drove until my car headlights were blurring in the mid-morning March fog still lingering at 8:17 am. After 15 hours and about 830 miles, I drove off the freeway in Hillspring, Alberta, Canada. I hadn't planned a stopping destination, my only guidelines being to drive until I no longer could and the hope of reaching Canada. \

Oregon is stunning. Washington State is chilly. Canada is comforting. Montana is just a perfect mix of them all. But then there's Idaho in between. I've always had an innate hatred toward Idaho. I hate traveling in Idaho, hate driving in Idaho, and hate being near Idaho.

Any map will display two ways to get from Seaside to Hillspring. As long as a traveler is being practical, they'll head out roughly east for about 250 miles and then arch their way toward Idaho going northeast and then curve up to Canada, finally arriving at Hillspring, Alberta. This is a 750-mile long journey lasting up to 12.5 hours, not including breaks and traffic.

But I'm not a practical traveler.

As a result of the Idaho issue, I had to take a course completely avoiding the state. So rather than 750 miles and 12 hours, I drove 820 in 15 hours. At least I didn't have to go near Idaho.

And now, after parking on a side street next to one of the many fields in Hill Spring, I find myself doubting my choices; having to remind myself that it was worth it.

I stopped six times to refill the car with gas. During that time I made use of the provided bathroom and got some supplies for the drive. By the time I would get back from my short shopping trip, everything else was ready to get back on the road. Including me, I would say to myself.

I'm constantly lying to my own mind, but the issue is that I never believe myself.

I've traveled over 800 miles for more than 900 minutes and have had no sleep for at least 29 hours. I could have gone to bed hours ago. It was worth it, I remind myself again.

However, I can't sleep just yet. First, I have to decide where to go as Brazil is no longer an option. In the past 15 hours, I got to thinking and remembered a promise I once made regarding traveling to Brazil. A promise I made involving a fifth anniversary I was to take with my best friend. A promise I made to a college student who showed me the world and loved me no matter what. And then left.

Therefore, going to Brazil would be... unpleasant.

So, where shall I go next? I pull out my world paper map that details so much information that the thing could reasonably weigh five pounds. I browse the map and start eliminating countries I've already visited. I've been to Antarctica, Greece, Spain, Iceland, Finland, Norway, Sweden, China, Japan, Arabia, South Africa, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Poland, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Russia, Tuvalu, Italy, Canada, and, obviously, America. How about Greenland?

I can drive east until I reach the shore of Cape Tormentine. From there I can drive to Prince Edward Island and stay there for a bit in recollection of Anne of Green Gables. Another place checked off an unclear mental list. After a couple of days, I'll get a flight from the Charlottetown airport, YGG, and fly for about 3 hours to GOH, the airport in Nuuk, Greenland.

Sounds like a good enough plan to me. However, I desperately need to sleep first. I jump out of the automobile and open the back trunk door to grab my knapsack. Inside the bag, I scavenge for my toothbrush and toothpaste so I can brush my teeth using a water bottle from the front.

After completing my teeth hygiene I return to my bag in search of my large jacket and towel that also serves as a blanket. I set them aside while I further my nightly preparations. First and foremost, I need to take my boots and socks off in exchange for flip-flops. I shuck off my black long-sleeve with a lace Peter Pan collar and cuffs in exchange for a loose yellow graphic tee. Next, I shimmy off my red skirt and slip into leggings that are far more comfortable. Finally, I place my old clothes into the bag, put on my jacket, lock the car up, and head out into the empty field.

There's always been something so wonderfully beautiful about fields. The fact that they're there is proof enough that there are other humans around but the emptiness of it could fit into an apocalyptic vision. While your own problems seem so consuming, a field can put everything into perspective. How there are billions of lives being lived right now and there's been billions lived in the past and billions more will continue to be lived. Your own life is just one of those billions. And eventually, none of them will even matter because there will come a time when no one will be here to remember the most esteemed, much less you.

At night, fields are a view of that palatable oblivion, so clean and simplistic with only the stars watching it.

And for that—that hard truth—for that I continue.

Continue to walk and view this wonderful field.

Continue to live a life with no baggage or ties.

Continue to walk a dark path with no evident end.