Milemarkers

I made the long drive to Muskogee last night.  Out of the city, across vast and empty land.  The landscape changes around mile marker 236, and the flat and windy horizon of Oklahoma City smudges into taller trees and the hills of "Green Country".  I wonder how many times I driven this stretch of highway?  Hundreds of times, possibly.  It carried me to OBU in a whirlwind, and I remember watching the exit signs as we got closer to my future.  There's one sign in particular:  Earlsboro. Earl was my beloved dog that died tragically the first Christmas break after I started college.  I still pass it and it makes me think of him.  He seemed to represent the last bit of home, the time before I left out on my own.

There's one stretch of highway that falls from a graceful hill, exposing a long curve.  When you live in the "flatlands", any type of dip or rise that you can visibly recognize is a wonder.  I love the sight.

So, thank you I-40. We've had a love/hate relationship over the years.  I've dreaded your uneventful miles, your indifferent pavement.  But you've carried me home and back, through my college years and now into another life change.  You'll carry me to my wedding day, the climax of all this waiting and planning and dreaming. We've shared a lot of good music, time to gather clarity of thought, a few speedometer readings I'd rather not admit.

And we've many miles yet to come.


My latest I-40 enjoyment, The Orbans.  Enjoy.