the soles of my moccasins are forever stamped with the feel of it all. with the cobblestone roads of philadelphia, the apple orchards where we kissed beneath the red delicious. the neighborhood sidewalk in connecticut where i sat and cried after we saw a dog get hit. the county fair in new hampshire. the rickety old bicycle in martha's vineyard. the dark restaurant in which we found shelter during a downpour on cape cod.
but perhaps this picture embodies it best of all. we were calculated in our planning, exact in our route. it was our intent to bypass manhattan. to cruise right around it and into long island. but our first night, we found ourselves on the new jersey turnpike, thrust suddenly into the lincoln tunnel, then we emerged. straight into time square.
and at ten o'clock on a saturday night, we drove through the city. the one we've only seen once before. dodging cab drivers and semi-trucks, we paused right in the heart of the big apple. we kissed under a red light and suddenly, a saxophonist began playing our song on the sidewalk. the whole thing felt like a dream.
and moment set the stage, and the tone, for the rest of the trip. it was a special, sacred time for us, peppered with little surprises, some upsets, and the little joys that come when you put the travel binder down and just start driving.
and in return, in essence, start living.
