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Breaking up is hard to do.  But breaking up with you, who seems bent on showing me your best side on my way out, is the worst. --

The job was finished and the career was paused.  The furniture was liquidated and the house was sold. The car was packed.

I was leaving Utah headed towards the great state of Pennsylvania, my childhood home.  Ultimately, I was leaving the United States of America for a new adventure.  It was something I could have never dreamed of but happened with such miraculous force that destiny would not be denied.

The break up consisted of taking my perfectly suitable life and turning it on its head for another.

The thing about break ups is trying to discern if the new life will yield as much happiness and well-being (or at the very least, the same as you currently experience) as you have hope for.  The kind of hope which causes you to suspend the career, sell the home, and travel expediently into the unknown.

It started with a climb. Breaking routine is difficult enough but I felt my vehicle clawing its way out of Utah and into Wyoming.  The rocky uphill terrain tugged on the engine and at times it seemed difficult to discern if the grind was a result of the trek or the baggage.  Even in the toil, I gazed out of my window to witness the purple mountain majesty and that was right about the time I saw the sign indicating I was crossing the Continental Divide at about 8,900 ft.  Though not the highest point of the divide in the States, the view coming off of it was astounding.

The descent presented heavy summer air and as Wyoming was in my rearview, Nebraska’s corn fields were welcoming me in full golden glory.  The fields were yellow, the lakes were blue, the grass was green, and the sky was washed in a rich red of the setting of the sun.  It was a sight Crayola’s Classic 8 would have been proud of and I couldn’t stop taking it in.  

It was at this point, my bum needed a break, my body needed a bite, and my car needed some fuel.  So there I was, forced to open the door and step foot on the rich soil of America’s heartland… truly the pulse of our great nation.  If I wasn’t persuaded of its imposing beauty, the massive log bridge arching over I-80, the Great Platte River Archway, presented an impressive case for Great Plains tourism and I was convinced.

It waved goodbye or rather its fruitful crops did and both nightfall & Iowa greeted me.  The black sky invited me into the Hawkeye State via a panorama of fireworks shows.  The Iowa State Fair was in full force.  Highway billboards informed me of farm shows while semis carrying race cars to the Iowa speedway briefed me of the additional festivities.  

I drove while my eyelids grew heavy.  I entertained the idea of employing a local hotel but was rebuffed under the lack of vacancies.  It appeared every potential presidential candidate was using this affair to ramp up their campaign.  So a mass of politicians complete with their entourages prevented me from slowing down.  Strike that.  I slowed down… another four hours later closer to the state border than I was aware.

After pulling off, I awoke with the sun in the early hours following little more than what most would consider a nap.  But that’s the business of breaking up.  You spend the night trying to hash it out and ultimately sheer exhaustion claims you.  You wake up to swollen eyes and stumble outside to take a deep breath. 

Mildly dazed and resolved to finish the deed, round two was just commencing and I didn’t know what I was in for.  I was ready to finalize my great exit and that’s when I was absolutely stunned by the morning sun dancing on the sparkling MIGHTY Mississippi River.  It took my breath away.  And for the first time since my departure from Utah, I seconded guessed my entire plan.  What actually was the appeal across the pond?

(That question, though rhetorically raised here, warrants another fleshed out essay which was previously written and is known & anchored in my soul.)

Still, if Nebraska is the heartland, the following Great Lake states are the flowing life-force.  For every state east of the Mississippi River acts as a vessel pumping life-giving creeks, streams, rivers, and lakes through its great land.  The vegetation is thick and speaks powerfully of creation.

Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio became one emerald blur.  Admittedly, the frenzied exit from Utah which closed with chaos & complications were catching up.  So when John Denver’s “Take Me Home Country Roads” emerged from my iPod’s random setting, the first, the few, & the last tears fell as the cities got bigger.  

Bustling Indianapolis pointed me toward concrete Columbus who pushed me through mining-towns West Virginia and right when I felt there would be no end, the steel mills of Pittsburg beckoned me into the state of my birth.

Pennsylvania is SO BEAUTIFUL.  I love where I am from.  The rolling green hills, the masses of trees, the sound of night crickets and cicadas singing.  The morning skies open with the haze of humidity, burn blue by noon, and close with the pink of the sun. Pennsylvania is stunning.

Here it was calmly completing another picture perfect day as I rose and fell against each hillside - the rhythm of a breathing creature lulled to sleep - slow and steady.

-- The break up was inevitable, still I’ve decided to remove all expectations.  We’ll likely reconcile.  But this I know.  I speak no dishonor in opposition to our partnership.  Against every argument to stay, I must go.  But know after journeying this path, I am acutely aware of all of the splendor & greatness you offer.