Snow Storms of the Heart

The road east out of this forsaken town is closed. The roads west and south soon will be too. I remember years ago, when we decided to move to North Carolina, with no planning. I didn’t know yet, that this would be a constant problem with you, nothing was ever planned. I didn’t know that I’d need a million sets of keys, because the only thing you cared to keep track of was your bowl. I didn’t know you would try to cross the border without proof of citizenship and get us stuck. I didn’t know you’d miss flights. I didn’t know that you wouldn’t check weather reports and know that the way east out of this forsaken town would be in the middle of a storm and closed. None of it mattered, I would have followed you to hell – I followed you to Greensboro after all.

I remember your huge motor home, with no heat. At least we had somewhere to “live” when we were stuck at the truck stop for 24 hours. The huge hunk of metal, that wouldn’t start every time we stopped to get gas. I didn’t know that you would know that and forget to mention it. I loved that you knew how to get under the hood, and under the flooring and rig the wires until it would start again, and we’d be free from the side of the freeway.

I didn’t know that if I didn’t do it, there’s no way you’d pack a sleeping bag. And we’d be stuck at the truck stop with nothing to sleep under. We’d empty our bags of clothes, make a huge pile of clothes and shiver under it until the alcohol sent us to sleep. None of it mattered. I remember thinking about how we might one day tell our grand children about the time it took us seven days to make it to Atlanta.

I remember getting stuck at a gas station in Kentucky for nine hours and freezing – and thinking we were done for good. You finally couldn’t figure out how to make the bundle of wires work. I remember finding a picture of your ex girlfriend and first love in a cupboard in your hunk of metal, and hoping you’d feel like that about me some day. I remember going to my first Waffle House to eat, stay warm and kill time until morning came so we could try to get out of Kentucky. I remember you getting tobacco and really pissing me off! And then I remember a random mechanic stopping by, who specialized in electrical systems, at three am in the morning, and working on us for two hours and not wanting anything in return.

I remember you writing “an angel saved my ass last night” with your finger on the dirt of the back of your hunk of metal – and then we made it to Knoxville. It was an awful trip, but none of it mattered. I was following love across the country, wherever it took me.

I remember traveling across the country with you, two years later. I remember sitting on the sprawling stairs of Chicago Art Museum and you telling me that when we got back to Eugene, you would leave me and move back in with your family in Knoxville.

This type of weather will always make me remember of a time when nothing mattered. I had met the person of my dreams and I was going to fight until the end. I’d sleep under clothes with no heat, go to waffle houses, move to North Carolina, get used to dogs, coyotes even, without a second thought. This type of weather will make me hope to be this inspired again, and have some one who wants to keep me warm through it now and forever.

I hope you and Nietzsche are well and happy.