The hot sun warmed the back of my neck. Asphalt road laid out for miles in front of me. I’ve been chasing mirages for the last 8 hours. Ironically the ocean moves with swirling passion just to my left. Desert sand receiving intimate kisses from the turquoise waves. Just some 100 miles away, white and cracked flats of salt long desperately to drink the water of the heavens. A desire only briefly satiated once or twice in these long months.
I hoist my bag to a more comfortable position on my hips, and stick my thumb out once again towards the cars that whiz by. Just 60 seconds in, a beat up corolla pulls over. Inside is a young couple. They welcome me with smiles and a language my foreign ears still cannot quite decipher. I use my only form of communication, Spitalian. It’s the language that my brain has created during my adventures in both Italy and South America this year. They smile and nod, laughing at my comical attempts of conversation. Fortunately I know enough to confirm a ride to the next junction and to provide entertainment for my new traveling partners.
Occasionally people ask, “Don’t you fear traveling the country like this?” Leaving yourself to chance and happenstance. “Oh no,” I reply. “Everything is happenstance to us, but not to Him. That’s the beauty and wonder of living.” He knows my timing here already, and it does no good to live in fear of the ‘what if’. It’s just my job to live and love with every fiber I can muster. That’s the happenstance. The fortunate event of being alive.
