I'm settling in to this life on the road thing. Driving from town to town, stopping for brief encounters with locals, and moving on...it's fitting for my state of mind at the moment. I can't really keep up my end of a conversation for too long without wanting to divulge too much information, so the brief snippets of chat are enough to keep me from looking like a crazy lady that only talks to a pug. Did you know that New Mexico is called 'The Land of Enchantment'? Well it is called that, and it is that. I was mesmerized by every inch I saw. I stopped into a town called Tucumcari today, and there was a rockabilly festival just setting up outside the convention center, where there is also a Rt. 66 museum. The museum wasn't much, but it was lovingly curated for sure, and the man running the door was kind enough to break the 'no dogs' rule for Clem. He said he had three himself and they were like his kids, so he understood. As I walked around the vendor area, there was a table of handmade knives, that also had some key chains with runes engraved in them for sale. I asked the artist about them, and he said he was watching the show 'Vikings', so he started making those, and some knives that were inspired by characters from the show. I wish I had the extra cash to have gotten one of them, because he was a guy that was just so happy to be making shit that people even looked at. Next to him was a man around 80 or so, that was manning a table of work by local artist, including himself, and invited me to check out their gallery in town. He went on and on about all the art programs and young artists in the area...he was so cool. I hope to still be that jacked up on art and proud of where I'm living when I'm that age.
On down the road were so many decaying signs and buildings, and I wanted to photograph every one of them, but I would have added about 10 miles to my trek for the day, instead of 200 like I planned, so I snapped as many as I could, and kept truckin'. As I made it into Texas, I did learn a good lesson about Google maps...sometimes it's not just telling you to get off the historical highway because it's slower...sometimes it's because it turns into a red dirt road and then ends. But it was still worth the detour to get back on the main road. I'm starting to believe that all detours are a gift of sorts.
Driving down Rt. 66 just reminded me of what I already knew about what I find beautiful. Things that have a story, that aren't perfect and new anymore. They have a dent, chipped paint, and a wrinkle or two. As I look at my road weary self in the mirror tonight, I'm thankful for the new creases I've gained in the last couple of months. They are full of love and determination, as well as aching and brokenness. I working my way toward the beautiful I need to be.