Wayne's Adventure (In Motion)

Houston, TX  4/20/2024

In many ways, the last five years of my life has been leading up to the moment pictured above.  Twyla told many people that when she died, she expected me to mourn her intensely for six weeks, burn down the house, vanish and never be heard from again.  She was not joking.  She knew my elicit love affair with extreme long distance hiking.  Truth is, on some level, I expected the something along the same lines.

I have never been more wrong.  Following her loss, grief truly and completely undid me for about 3 years.  Everything I thought about myself; everything I liked about myself was laid to waste.  It not only unmasted me, It un-humaned me.  Her “six weeks” became three years. 

You never “get over” but eventually you can “get going” again.  Even if you don’t want to.

So, over the last year, a new plan, not involving arson and “unsolved mysteries” began to take shape.  Close out my career.  Sell everything except what could fit in a 10×10 storage locker.  Just GO and DO while the body can still survive it.  While I fell short of that goal, I got close enough.  I planned to launch April 1 on the Continental Divide Trail heading North.

Godchild Number One threw a wrench in my launch date by requesting I walk her down the aisle for her wedding on April 20^th. Picture above.   Wearing the same clothes, I wore for her mom’s wedding decades ago.  (RIP Renee).  In my mind, this brief stroll closed the final chapter on the person I used to be.

 I always think of my life as a bookshelf.  Hundreds of books line the shelves with titles like “High School” or “Friendship with Kyle” or “Chrysler Cordoba”.  It’s my memory palace (in Sherlock Holmes parlance) In these pages are the history of various compartments of my life.  Sometimes, I take down an old volume and scribble an epilogue and return it to its place.  I have spent the last several months closing out these books.  Career, spouse, possessions, relationships, etc.  Saying goodbye to who I was for so very long.

The hope is new ones will replace them, but my life is different and it’s time to move on.  And yes, it is terrifying.