It’s trite, I know. But when I travel, everything — even pizza, which I normally don’t much care for! — is new, and made wonderful with that newness.
And yes, the Blue Ridge Mountains are deeply beautiful. And they really are this blue, once the sun drops below the horizon.
But there are other sights that surprise, and even astonish: a sign to Hungry Mother Park (what a name!); a billboard beside the road painted sky blue, with clouds shaped exactly like fluffy buffalo on it, and nothing else; buzzards patrolling for speeders; the Brown Squirrel Furniture Warehouse (WHO would want squirrelly furniture??); alien monsters clothed in kudzu green. A huge truck rig pulling a tiny UHaul trailer.
I like to believe that I would notice these tiny moments even in my hectic normal day, without the benefit of large windows and no distractions. The truth is, I’m really not sure. The simple tasks of life can be beautiful, certainly: who hasn’t set a table and taken joy in it? Found comfort in sheets warm from the dryer? But how many times do I nit-nit-nit about the very minor glitches in my days?
My hope as I return from the seductive baby smiles of my grandson, to the mundane world of my own home & life, is that somehow I can sustain the wonder of a road trip. How every corner brings some new vision, framed by wide sky and cloud mountains. And how mindfulness is like that frame, bringing beauty to every new moment.