On the Road Again

I love a good road trip, always have. I’m Charlene ~ adventure seeker, writer, beach bum and most notably, a loner. I need to think smart and keep this duffle bag simple. That’s my best friend, Samantha, or Sam, over there texting on my bed. She still questions my decision to venture out alone. She keeps asking me, “Why can’t you wait until summer, when I have vacation time, and I’ll go too?” I snicker innocently, “Sam, you know I love a spring fling. I need this trip, now! Something is telling me this getaway is about more than I know. Something special is in the air. Don’t worry, I’ll call every day, text at every stop.”

Samantha is definitely the more disciplined of us. She likes things planned out, organized, and preferably upscale. She considers all circumstances thoroughly before letting me lead her astray. Occasionally, I can convince her to ease up. A classic Charlene adventure was the time I thought we should skinny dip in our friend Darlene’s pool since she was out of town. Late one evening, I led Sam through the back gate at Darlene’s house. Excitedly, I lowered my bare body down into the water in a voluntarily muted fashion. Sam’s toe barely tapped the water, she screeched from the shock of the cold. Confused, Sam and I hurried out of the pool. Instantly, a light came on in the first-floor master suite, the window fully exposed. It was Darlene’s parents, clear as the day. We had on our birthday suits and so did they! We all froze as if to give each other a moment to study our embarrassed guises. Sam regretted not following her first mind earlier that day when she kept questioning why I wanted to meet up with her so late. Now there’s this weird familiarity that underscores every thought when we all see each other. I consider it just another authentic crusade through this thing called life. Regardless of how it went down, Sam was upset with me for quite sometime after that incident, only meeting up with me if she made all the plans herself.

Our extreme differences are likely why my spontaneous, rustic road trip sounds risky, unattractive, and totally unfun to her. Listen, me and Sam are trusted territory, even when we disagree. Sam wishes me well, in her own way. However, she would require a stringent itinerary to wish me well with a smile.

“Alright, Sammy, I’ll text you at my first stop, about noon tomorrow. I’m going to bed, I want to leave before the sun comes up. Love you, sis.” Sam’s eyes softened, “I love you too, crazy. No one can call you boring. Please don’t make me look for you Charlene, and don’t go being friendly to everyone you pass.” “Well, then I wouldn’t be me, would I?” Sam gave me a half-smile and hugged me good-bye.

I had three days to get from Maryland to Colorado. I’m headed there for a writing retreat. Colorado is one of my favorite places to relax and get creative. Three days was plenty of time to explore along the way. My driving limit is about nine hours. After that, I stop, sleepy or not. The extent of my planning was to determine my two stops. I made plans to meet with a professor I’ve been following for some time now. I also wanted to see a friend along the way. The first leg, Maryland to Indianapolis, eight hours. Then off to Kansas, Topeka to be exact...seven hours. The last leg was the push, all the way from Topeka to Aspen, ten hours straight. By then I’m hoping the adrenaline kicks up a notch.

The clock read 6:26pm, my belly was full and 3am would be here before I knew it. “Go to sleep, calm down and go to sleep,” I repeated to myself over and over. It must have worked because I was in a detailed dreamland before too long. The alarm clock sounded at exactly 3am. I woke in a fog, having dreamt about being on the road. Funny thing is, in my dream, instead of driving to Indianapolis, Indiana first, I drove to Cincinnati, Ohio. I got dressed and put my coolers and duffle bag in the car. News radio was on so I listened to political talk until boredom set in. I needed music to sing and bop my head. My playlist was loaded so I turned the volume up, rolled the windows down, and felt like my true road warrior spirit had come alive.

My cell phone rang and I knew it was Sam before her name appeared. “Hey girly, what are you doing up so early? You miss me already?” I asked sarcastically. “Charlene, listen, I had a really weird dream. For some reason, I think you should be going to Cincinnati first. There was a woman there, in my dream, and she was speaking about your work. She kept saying that they were going to meet you today. In my dream, Charlene, it was clear that you were meeting her in Cincinnati. She knew everything about you.” I was stunned. How did we both dream of me going to Cincinnati? “Ok, ok, Cincinnati, here I come,” I replied enthusiastically. Sam and I burst into laughter. “Girl, you are something else.” I strongly agreed, “Yes, I am.”

I changed the route on my car’s navigation system and called my friend, Cecil, to tell him that I was not coming to Topeka to visit this trip. He answered on the first ring, “Charlene, are you here already?” “No, good morning. I had to change my plans so I won’t be coming to Indianapolis at all.” Cecil hesitated, “I haven’t seen you in so long. But I’ll admit, there’s an event I want to attend later today in Cincinnati, so I may get on the road now. Why aren't you coming?” This was becoming somewhat creepy. “What is the event?” I asked curiously. Cecil was geeked and I could hear him leaving the house and getting in his car. “A woman from my hometown, Halona, is sharing her gift of good fortune. You should come. She shows up and has astonishing interactions with one or two people, often said to be life-altering. I’ll text you the address. You never said where you were heading.” Cecil was clueless about how all of this was unfolding. I gave him a chipper reply, “Yep, got your text. I will see you there soon!”

My road trip was going exactly as I liked. Cosmic energy was in full effect, I was joyfully living in the now, capturing these remarkable moments. The scenic drive contributed to unknown nostalgia being created. I ate the sandwich, chips, and chocolates I packed and only had to stop twice for quick bathroom breaks. I decided to turn the news radio back on, just to see what was happening in the world since I last listened five hours ago. There was a conversation taking place between the commentator and her guest, Halona Gaylord. The guest explained that her first name meant happy fortune. This was the same Halona that was going to be in Cincinnati. At this point, no doubt, I was on a chosen path.

Cecil and I met, entering the event with hundreds of others. The bustle of the crowd forced us to reacquaint very informally. We had great seats since Cecil had purchased the two tickets well in advance. Halona was beautiful and you could feel her positivity in the entire room. After she shared her history somewhat, she began to walk around the room. “This is where the magic happens,” Cecil whispered. Halona was pausing by some people, almost like there was something in the way of her getting by. There was a man that Halona kept returning to. The next thing I knew, he was walking away with someone that worked there. This went on for almost an hour. It was the most peaceful time I’d experienced in years. Then, Halona stopped right in front of me and her smile beamed so brightly, it brought tears to my eyes. She never spoke any words but her eyes instructed me to go with the same woman that had walked away with the man several minutes ago.

I was taken to a cozy room with a couch and a side table. There were an envelope and a small, black, leather notebook sitting on the seat. My name was neatly printed on the outside of the envelope. On the back tab, it said ‘KEEP GOOD FAITH. TRUST AND BE HAPPY.’ Inside were crisp new hundred dollar bills, in two bundles, each marked $10K. I stumbled across $20,000 and had no idea who it was from or why, or what the heck to do with it. As I could hear people moving around hurriedly outside the door, a voice came over the loudspeaker, “Everyone should head out. You all have been given directions.” I grabbed the worn, black journal and stuffed the wad of money in my backpack. Cecil was nowhere to be found but he left a note on my car’s windshield saying we would reconnect sometime soon.

In my car, I had to gather myself because I had absolutely no idea what just took place. I cracked the journal open to a random page. It read: She was patient and willing to love me. Her eyes made me believe all things in life would work out fine. Everything she did was beautiful. I turned to another page, again randomly. It read: When you leave Cincinnati, go to Wichita. Get there soon. I hit the dashboard and said aloud, “Here we go! I have plans to go to Topeka, Kansas not Wichita! Ok, chill Charlene, get some rest, wake up early and let’s submit and head to Wichita.” That easily, I talked myself into another course change. See, Sam would never agree to all of this. Speaking of Sam, she hasn’t called or texted. I rang her phone and left her a message that all was well. I remembered to cancel my Topeka appointment with Professor Davis then I cranked up my playlist and sang seven hours of old school hip-hop and r&b, sliding right into Wichita at about 6pm.

I checked into the first hotel I saw, ready to get some necessary rest. As I was entering my room, my neighbor was leaving his room. He gave me a hesitant stare, “Good evening Miss.” I blushed for some reason, “Hello.” What was that? He felt familiar even though he didn’t look familiar at all. Again, what was that? I proceeded to take a hot bath and absorb myself in the journal I found. Each page was more interesting than the next. The man that wrote these entries is spectacular. Such a gentleman, a kind man, so intriguing. I felt conceited to admit that I had a lot of the attributes he was describing in whoever he was writing about.

Knock, knock, knock. I could see my neighbor from the peephole. “Yes, um, is everything ok?” I tried to sound sophisticated since I was really panicking. He replied, “Yes, I apologize, everything’s good. Will you please meet me at the lobby bar. I just want to talk to you. Let me buy you a drink.” Now I was blushing and dancing, “Um, ok. I’ll be down in a bit.”

To make an extremely long story short, we talked the entire night, for many, many nights to come. That man became my husband. As if that isn’t astonishing enough, the icing on the cake happened on our wedding night. We were reminiscing and he said the weekend we met was almost perfect, except he had lost a beautiful, small, black, leather notebook when he made a stop in Cincinnati, the day before we met.