Down the Road
Mile Markers Track How Far We’ve Gone
In the median between east and westbound traffic, Wisconsin’s interstate I-94, has small blue signs with reflective white numbers. If you care to notice, each consecutive marker increases or decreases by one — one more mile on your journey now framed by the rear view mirror.
Today the wheels of our truck and boat trailer spiral west and north. In just five short hours (no sarcasm there), we’ll be unloading kayaks, sleeping bags, suitcases, books, sunscreen, bug spray, beach towels, camera equipment, so much fishing gear, and the kitchen sink. Did you stick with the list long enough to make it to the last one? It’s not true — no kitchen sink. Have I mentioned we’ll only be at the cabin on Smith Lake for three full days and nights?
The radio is tuned to Q106 transmitting a mix of advertising, deejay babble and contemporary country music. To me, it’s just background noise as I think about all that’s changed since we made this same trip last year. There’s much, but the one thing my mind keeps spinning along with the rubber on the pavement is how far I’ve moved forward as a writer. I looked back at the story I wrote last year while making this exact physical journey.
Ouch?
Sure, I told the story. My grammar and punctuation was acceptable. I was the same person I am today, or was I?
Please note I had figured how to insert pictures of donuts into my story! No photo credit — it’d be a while until I figured that out.
You know what though?
The past year of practice has helped me to smooth off some of my rough edges. I’ve learned to add some color — sounding more like a story teller and less like a reporter. The craft of touching hearts and minds through words is calling me forward. “C’mon, baby steps,” it whispers. “We’ve got this.”
“Coming,” I respond. “Just let me grab my life jacket.”
Unfortunately I’ll miss my potter friend Darrell this year. Muskyfest is next weekend. I would have liked to show him the story I wrote about him.
