?I?ve been thinking ?bout catching a train. Leave my phone machine by the radar range. Hello it?s me, I?m not at home. If you?d like to reach me, leave me alone. A change would do you good…a change would do you good.? ?SHERYL CROW
My kids and I took a short vacation to Nebraska last year. We went for a concert but had some time to drive around and explore a new area.
Our hotel was perfectly situated?directly between the concert venue and shopping centers just over the Iowa border. So we trekked back and forth between Nebraska and Iowa a couple of times and spent an afternoon watching the movie Frozen.
The reality of this trip was that we were in a place that looked exactly like home, watching a movie we could have seen (and did see for that matter) thirty minutes from home.
The views may not have been spectacular, but the environment was different. And sometimes, that?s just enough to satisfy.
I decided this weekend, also, that what I needed was a change of scenery. I had a column due, which was to be this one when it was said and done, and for which I am grateful to be able to contribute.
This coming May will wrap up year 10 of my column printing in the Free Press. It?s not my full-time job, but it?s a big part for me. It lets me tap into the little girl in me who used to go through pages of notebook paper looping what I excitedly knew was sort of like cursive e?s in long line after line of notebook paper, which was thrilling enough for my little brain to stick with me all of these years later.
I tap into my former high school English-student self, sprawled on the bed scribbling my first assigned short story, soaked with ?Danielle Steele-esque? emotional turmoil and teenage angst. I remember the protagonist was named Allison, aptly named after my ?flour sack baby? name of choice during a high school Family Living class.
Grateful for the opportunity to still write this stuff goes hand in hand with occasionally getting stuck in an idea void. So to write this particular one, I convinced myself I needed to drive 50 minutes south to huddle in a little corner of a bustling coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon.
I needed ambiguous background music and thirty assorted voices meshing with the clinks and clanks of glasses and ice machines.
I needed giant posters of book covers hanging around me and several thousands of real books 20 feet away.
I?ve seen it said on Pinterest: ?If I?m going to be stranded, I hope it?s inside a bookstore.?
I wasn?t technically stranded, but none-the-less, a scenery like this is necessary once in awhile. I needed the two hyperactive college students comparing their social calendars and late assignments in front of me, a balding Jeff Daniels look-alike with glasses two sizes too small hunched over a Macbook to my right, and a caramel macchiato to my left.
I actually ordered a salted caramel macchiato, a request the enthusiastic barista cheerily accepted and rung up.
?We don?t actually have the salt to put on it,? she tossed out last minute.
?Oh, OK…,? I said.
?So, you want a caramel macchiato, then,? she stated with confidence.
?Yes?? I firmly replied/asked.
So, as I said, a caramel macchiato to my left.
A different drink to go with a different sound at a different table with a different view. A simple trek to a different kind of familiar. Just enough to do some good.