Rt 33

I keep checking the Fall Color Reports from Ohio Department of Natural Resources. I am impatient for the link to tell me the fall foliage is changing, morphing, letting go of green...
The day that the report tells me it is beautiful, I will pack up the family and drive down Rt. 33 and be inspired just like every autumn. Growing up in Southeastern Ohio I have probably driven that highway ten thousand times and I really never get tired of it. That road took me to my Gran's as a child and to the big cities with my family. It was my thinking road as I drove back and forth from Ohio University to my parents home. A beautiful stretch of rolling hills and trees that stood tall and strong became the backdrop for my adolescence and young adulthood dreams. I think some of the area is as beautiful as any backwoods New England town. It is pure poetry as it blows by and I miss it here. I miss getting lost in my thoughts on a drive.

It was on that road that I hit a deer one crisp October day and sat on the berm and cried and cried

It was on that road that I decided I loved Joe madly and would follow him to England

It was on that road that I last saw my old boyfriend ride by on his motorcycle and wave at me right before he was in the bike accident that took his life

It was on that road that I would drive hungover as hell to take my gran to the grocery store every Saturday morning

It was on that road that I would wish I lived anywhere but in Logan, Ohio

I want to be on that road again. Soon. I want to point out the colors and trees to my son and have his face pass into the expression that we share. The one where his mouth slowly opens and he curls his lips outward and his eyes sparkle.
That one.