And so it is

If you’ve been following the other blogs, you know that our last day did not go as planned. What was going to be a final wrap up in Montgomery before heading home ended abruptly on the side of the road outside of Tallahassee. Big Mama had done pretty well through the whole trip, but as we left St. Augustine, a bearing came loose in her fan and our journey with her and Reuben came to an end. Around 1pm a charter bus from Atlanta met us on the highway, and we loaded all of our luggage onto the new bus, waving at Reuben as we drove away from what had become our home for 39 ½ days.

As the news sunk in that we wouldn’t be going to Montgomery at all, I felt remorse, for Emma, the day’s ambassador, and for all of us missing out on the experience. But as I settled into my seat on the new bus and breathed a heavy sigh, I realized it wasn’t the only one I had missed.

As we left Washington D.C. and moved south to Williamsburg, Charleston, and St. Augustine, I have to be honest, the trip became more about trying to find a balance, and less about the experience. I was starting to get sick, and was dealing with stress from home. The drain of the heat, emotional overload, and complete exhaustion were finally starting to take effect. Not to mention the realization that in a few days, this would all be over, and I would have to begin to emotionally and mentally unpack everything I’d kept mostly inside.

I regret that I wasn’t present in the Southeast the way I had been in the early days of the trip. I can give you a list of excuses, and I doubt many would blame me for being exhausted by the last leg, but still, I failed to keep the promise I made myself in South Dakota, to appreciate every experience and do my best to remember each day. I’d failed to keep the promise I had made myself on the street in D.C. after passing the wealthy man with issues of both décor and decorum. I was too tired.

So the final push into Nashville was bittersweet. Glad as I was to be in a town I knew, with people I had missed, I wasn’t ready to be done. I wanted to turn around and go back. To pick up Reuben in Tallahassee and make a loop back the way we came, paying attention to all the spots I’d missed and checking to see if the others had changed at all. I wanted to sleep, and shower, and then start moving again. An apologetic pilgrimage to all the cities I didn’t give my level best.

But that didn’t happen. I spent a couple days in Nashville saying goodbye to the friends I’d made and spending some time with friends I’ve known for years, now. I had one last class, and then I packed up my car to drive the 500 miles back to my parents home, where a bed, and a shower, and family waited.

As I pulled out onto Wedgwood, a road I’d driven down countless times in my years at Belmont, I noticed an old man pushing a woman in a wheelchair, outside of a large, brown complex. I glanced at the sign outside the building and realized it was a nursing home. A home I’d never even noticed before that day. If it wasn’t for the couple outside I might not have noticed it then.

I shook my head at my own blindness and realized that I might make that pilgrimage after all. The way I see cities, even Nashville, a town I’ve lived in for two years now, has changed, because now I’m actually looking. I’m honestly asking people how they’re doing, and getting to know their stories. I’m letting my blinders drop and seeing more than just the road in front of my car.

I might not have the answer to “what it means to be an American” just yet. I doubt I’ll have a concrete answer. But as Ken said on the last day of class, it’s important that we’re asking. So in the end, I don’t know if I “rediscovered America”. But I think I learned how to. And I’m not done looking.