1,876 miles.

[KB.]

1,876 miles



"A pain stabbed my heart as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world"

~Jack Kerouac

I wish I could have known ole Jack, I think we would have got along superbly. It has come to my attention that I am not the man that someone thought I was; either that or they weren't the woman they thought they were. It was probably a little of both, and some other things thrown in the mix as well. I was told by someone that she wasn't the woman I fell in love with. I think that was a little on the presumptuous side, but I am sure there was a reason for the comment. May have been just a way to make it seem easier for my sake, may have been the total truth. Either way it doesn’t matter now.

"The way to love anything is to realize it might be lost."

~G. K. Chesterton

A man met a woman once, a long time ago, and she was magnificent. Smart, beautiful, kind hearted, funny, all of those things that are so hard to find in the same place. The man himself was alright too, he had some decent qualities about him, but he isn't so important really. They talked, they shared, and they fell in love. It had been seven years since he had said those words to someone, and it was the first time he had ever said them first. It was nice for him to hear them back. They progressed in a swift manner, marriage was discussed and agreed upon, children were named, and gardens were planned. Things were going to grow. They shared their relationship, most of it anyways, with countless people in many places. Some old friends of both of theirs, some new friends, and some strangers to one or the other. There were probably a few strangers to the both of them that shared in it as well.

Words were written and exchanged between just the two of them; strong and powerful words. Declarative statements. Declarative statements have a way of biting you square on the ass if you are not very careful with them. That's why parents have such a grand tool with the word maybe.

Somewhere along the line one of them fell out of love, quicker than even they had fell in love. Let’s talk about words for a minute, let me digress. Words like always, forever, love, promise, faith, trust, they are used too easily it seems. You used to have to be prepared to fight and defend yourself over words like that. Words like that got both of these people in trouble. No one was a bad guy; just two good folks who decided one path was a little too overgrown maybe. The man shared things with other people he shouldn't had, and denied the woman the right to see him face to face at one point. He had his reason, but they were ridiculous. Doubts sprung up like some malicious jack-in-the box. The handle got turned one too many times. Maybe too much stock was put into small signs, maybe things got a little too surreal for them, and maybe a movie type life was too much of a temptation.

When all was said and done one had told the other that they were not the person the other had fallen in love with, not to fight for it, and that they hoped forgiveness would be given. The person who received those words smiled a little at the last statement, the forgiveness part. That person knew the right thing had happened because they had forgiven the other days before when they knew it was done. The person writing, if they had really known the other, would have not had to ask for it. Regardless it was nice to at least have the knowledge that the other cared enough to ask for it, needed or not. Some stories don't have happy endings. That's the way of the world though. The bad endings make you appreciate the good ones all the more.

The woman the man met is still that magnificent person, still retains all of those so hard to find attributes, and will always be a ray of Sunshine to the folks she loves. The man who met her will be alright, he always is. He holds no ill will towards that woman, never could. That's the way he is. He will also always think of the things that happened and be thankful for them, and hopefully she will as well. They are both good people, different from most, maybe too much like each other.



"One great use for words is to hide our thoughts"

~Voltaire



Words, what a lost art. What a strong way to communicate, and yes most folks go through their day always talking, never saying anything. Written words are powerful, at least in my Technicolor little world. Written they mean little, but once read, said aloud, or shared in any way; they become infinite. Careful with your words, they ripple outward forever. They affect things that we can never begin to understand. I will meet new people, in some place I would have never seen, because of words. No idea where that will be, but they won't be the same after I get there. Maybe they won't run me out with pitchforks and torches blazing. I wonder if the letters I have written still survive. If they managed to make it through what ever cleansing those they were addressed to needed to go through to get to where they are. There were a lot of them out there, thousands of pages. Surely some made it through, hid in some back corner that was forgotten and grew dusty. Words, once written become powerful, but are all too easily done away with. A simple click of a button has replaced the gasoline and matches of years ago. Click, it is gone. Even if saved somewhere the original is no longer.

Yeah, I'm rambling and it is far from over. "I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich"

~ M.A.S.H.

Rambling, the thought of it, was tough today. I talked about it a lot, and I even named the place where I might ramble to next, along with a date. No declarative statements made though. I was home, and felt at home for the first time in the week I've been here. I went to an old friend's house, and I watched him plant a garden, tomatos of all things. I talked about love, life, God, politics, and families. I talked about roads, some literal and some not. I spent some time with his gorgeous son after we had ate our burgers, and our other friend had left to go back home. It was nice to have that little man snuggled so close to me, it felt good to read his books with him, and ask him what color was this, and what shape was that. I even shared an old trick my Papa used to use on me to get me to laugh. He hugged me, kissed me, and called me Uncle KB. Told me good night and I heard his Moma ask him if he wanted to pray for me along with all of his other two and a half year old innocent prayers. I was a long way from rambling right then. To raise a son, or a daughter, how fine that would be.

His daddy and I went and drove around on those old back roads, the route. We talked more religion, we talked about a circumstance that happened between us that I figured we would never discuss, and he let me know a detail I had never known about it. It changed my whole point of view on it. We lost a lot of time over that incident, wasted years. He told me he was going to write me a letter, but he had me in the car, and he couldn't type fast anyway so he would just tell me. He told me I was one of the reasons he had found the peace he had. That the words I had told him once so long ago had given him the chance to make a change for the good, and that he appreciated me for it. He told me he was glad I was coming back home regardless of how long I would be there, and he told me he loved me. He does, and I love him. It was damn fine to spend the day with him, his wife, and that little man of his. It was damn fine to see our other friend, me sharing something with him allowed him to share something with us. It was a nice day.

"We were all delighted, we all realized we were leaving confusion and nonsense behind and performing our one and noble function of the time, move"

~Jack Kerouac

Boise has four seasons, real ones. They have a river that runs through the middle of the town, a real river. Boise is in a valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides. Their football team’s playing field is blue. The wages over all are fairly low, but that along with the low cost of living is all relative. I'm broke, so low ain't so lacking to me. The cost of housing is far less than it is in St Louis, and the crime is far lower. The wages are pretty similar for an unskilled cretin like me. Too many crackers and not enough soup though, that will be the only downside. Some of what I've read makes me think they don't care much for outsiders, but the detest is usually aimed towards rich folks from California, and I am neither rich or from California. I also always have my accent to fall back on if everything else fails me. Boise is 1,876 miles from Milan, but I get to ride through St. Louis on my way there. Maybe even close to my birthday. No declarative statements being made here. Remember that.



"You never really leave a place or person you love, part of them you take with you, leaving a part of yourself behind"

~No clue

I have been asked by two people, one directly and one indirectly, why can't I stay in St. Louis, why leave? I gave some bullshit answers, some not so smelly answers, and probably all ridiculous. I don't really know why I have to leave St. Louis, or why I can't stay. I have my reasons, maybe. Best thing I can say is that is just how it works. That is the progression of it, if not now it will be later. Best to start down the road while there is still daylight outside. The quote above is the best answer I have. I have full faith folks will remember me; I will for sure remember them.

I'll end this train wreck with a few random quotes, I like quotes.

"The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year"

~Mark Twain

"Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold, but so does a hard boiled egg"

~Who knows?

"I was going to be left alone on my butt at the other end of the continent. But why think about that when all the golden lands ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you are alive to see?"

~Jack Kerouac

"Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong. There are always difficulties arising which tempt you to believe that your critics are right. To map out a course of action and follow it to the end requires courage."

~Emerson

One more, I don't care for even numbers.

"I have made this letter longer than usual , only because I have not had the time to make it shorter."

~Blaise Pascal



KB