Writing

Since my brief visit to New England in the fall 2017, I had longed to return to the East Coast. Last October (2021) this longing intensified and I started thinking about taking a road trip with my son to Plymouth, Massachusetts for Christmas. My son is a college sophomore majoring in history.  As Thanksgiving approached, I was torn between staying home or traveling east for the holidays. Driving from Dallas, Texas, to Plymouth, MA would be our longest road trip to date and would cover ten states and an estimated 3,800 miles.

On December 13^th, we decided to make the trip, weather permitting. As I write this post, I am unsure why my soul craved a New England fix.  I knew last month; I needed a break from the rut I had dug. I needed to recharge my creative battery and ease the longing that consumed my thoughts. Most importantly, I needed to get away and travel for the sanity of my soul.

At 5:45 am Christmas morning we departed Dallas. The tension from the year felt like a vice clamped shut on my being. This feeling persisted through eastern Texas, Arkansas, and the western part of Tennessee.  We made a fuel and lunch stop in Jackson, TN. My son took a break, and I took over driving. The beautiful rolling hills slowly unwound my stress. The fresh landscape with perseverance subtleties unveiled its peaceful beauty as we consumed miles.

I drank the scenery and I thought – am I traveling to Plymouth, MA for clam chowder, or am I traveling to Cape Cod, like Thoreau and others before me in search of something greater? Does my soul long to walk along the Atlantic beach seeking mental freedom from the confines of family chains? Or to break free from the constant family pressure to remain invisible where they seek to keep me?  By evening, we had arrived in Knoxville, TN, and spent the night.

Sunday morning, we were greeted with heavy fog as we continued our drive north through Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania. Instead of staying a second night in PA, we continued driving and found a hotel on Staten Island, New York. Earlier in my career, I commuted to NYC for a while and always loved the city’s energy.  I was excited to be back and wanted Italian for dinner.  We ordered pasta and pizza from Patrizio’s.  

I woke early Monday morning (December 27^th) and was excited to share the city with my son.

We visited the Liberty State Park and then drove north along the Hudson to view Manhattan from New Jersey. While driving, we were gifted with snow flurries which were a welcome treat from the unseasonable warm temperatures back home.

We made a brief stop in Greenwich to visit Miller Motorcars. Afterward, we continued northward and stopped again in Mystic, Connecticut where we grabbed a toasted bagel at Anchor Mystic Café & Sweets. By the time we arrived in Plymouth, the weather was perfect – misty, chilly, with a hint of snow!  Before the trip, I searched for restaurants and had selected Tavern on the Wharf for dinner. I had clam chowder and cod, my son selected surf and turf. 

While we enjoyed our meal, I knew that I was finally where I longed to be.

Following dinner, we viewed the Plymouth Rock. My mother taught AP Honors English and visited New England twice to enrich the learning experience for her students. For us, the Plymouth Rock did not disappoint as it represents the risk individuals took to settle a new land over 400 years ago.  While looking across the dark harbor, my son, rhetorically asked, “how did these individuals survive in an area with little land to farm?” I wondered myself staring down at the rock.

The next morning, Tuesday, December 28^th, we viewed the Plymouth Rock again and the nearby historical sights. At every step, I thought about the settlers and the difficult terrain and conditions they encountered. Afterward, we traveled south to Cape Cod. While planning the trip, we considered driving to Salem later in the day. However, once we were on the Cape, we knew exploring the island and walking along the beach was where we wanted to spend our time. At Fisherman’s View in Sandwich, MA we enjoyed a relaxing lunch.  I ordered clam chowder again, and my son and I shared crab cakes and lobster. Any motivation to return home flew away on the sea gulls’ wings as I savored the food and harbor view. 

After lunch, while making our way to the Atlantic side of the Cape, I discovered the most enchanting bookshop – Titcomb’s Bookshop, in East Sandwich.  The instant I walked through the doors, I was simultaneously in love with the shop and overwhelmed. THIS was the bookshop I had envisioned as an author. If any of my characters ever owned a shop, it would be exactly like Titcomb’s. My son helped me search for books that were on my “to buy” list. As I glanced at the books, I felt as if I was viewing a list of fine wines. Carefully curated selections of new, old, and rare books were displayed throughout the shop along with unique gifts. I purchased Thoreau’s Cape Cod by Dan Tobyne.

The sandy walkway and beach on the Atlantic side looked exactly like every picture I had seen of Cape Cod. Like a kid on summer vacation, I ran to the shoreline joining the birds who were busy hunting for food. The ocean was mellow and offered a welcoming hand to its Texas visitors. We took photos, walked along the beach, and soaked in the Cape as much as possible while intentionally delaying our departure. As the sun began to set, we reluctantly resumed our travel and headed to Mystic, CT for the night. 

Dinner at Bravo Bravo in Mystic was an excellent choice to conclude our New England trip. While enjoying dinner at the bar, I mentioned to the bartender how tempted I was to stay and find a cabin either in Mystic or on the Cape. I could walk, write, and follow in the footsteps of fellow authors and poets. Our meal of shrimp pasta and crab cakes was delicious. The service from the bartender was excellent, which only caused us to linger for dessert which was divine.

On Wednesday morning we left Mystic and headed back to Texas. We stopped again in Knoxville, TN, and arrived in Dallas Thursday evening having traveled 3867 miles. For now, my longing for the East Coast has subsided as I recall our trip memories. However, I know the longing will return pulling me back to the Cape to write as others did before me.

Longing for the Cape

I am a poet

who longs to be near the sea,

to be one with the surf.

To feel the Earth’s tide

to relax into the ebb and flow of time

to walk along the shores of Cape Cod.

For now, I sit at home 1932 miles away and dream of my return.

Yesterday, I contacted a company about a product. I did not bother to leave a voicemail as these can be digital blackholes. A couple of hours later, I was surprised to receive a call from a product specialist. He was helpful, described the product, and never once pushed a sale. He listened.  

After a few minutes, he said, “I’m here when you are ready and will be glad to help you design the product you need.” Never once during the call did he read from a script or interject what he thought I should or should not purchase.  

I was surprised that he listened to how I wanted to custom design the product and answered my questions. This week, two individuals have heard and understood what I was saying when describing my vision and what tools I need. They both offered help and support. They did not attempt to convince me that I should do something different or that their plan was better.  

Not being heard is one of the most frustrating feelings we can experience as humans. I am sure our pets feel the same way half the time too.  

Today we listen passively to others as we scroll through the constant stream of digital noise. Yet, regardless of social media, we experience conversations with individuals so entrenched in their worldview that they can’t hear or refuse to hear what we are saying.  

When we feel unheard, we also feel invisible.  

For the past six months, I felt unheard. So instead of remaining stuck and talking to the same people repeatedly, I decided to make a change on my end. As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I have resumed my personal journey following my North Star. 

While writing To Be Human – Always, I started asking myself each day, “am I living the life I seek to live.” This week, I added a second question, “Am I expending energy with individuals who listen passively or not at all?”

We have a choice. 

In my latest poetry book, To Be Human – Always, several of the writings in the book discuss the question, “if we dared to live the life we seek to live – would we do it?” So, each day I ask myself, am I living the life I seek to live.

Do I really want to spend hours scrolling on social media or spend energy dealing with toxic situations that I can leave? Do I make a stand for myself, my vision, and my personal journey? Do I have the courage to be me?

This week, I made several decisions that enabled me to resume my personal journey, as I had been taken off course. We each have a North Star, an internal guide of where we are headed. I was reminded this week that when times are cloudy, I must trust my inner compass (core principles and vision) to stay on course.

All too often, we become caught in the storm of others, and their drama can cause us to detour off our path, which costs us valuable time and resources.