On Driving to Jellico

Saturday, April 11, 2009 

I don’t remember why I went the first time. I only knew that my heart ached, that sleep was not possible, and that I wanted to be anywhere but where I was in that moment. So, I tanked the car full of gas and pointed it south. South for me from anywhere is always home. I don’t know where I was headed as long as it was away. And so I drove thru the darkness, in the silence accompanied only by the passing lights and my tears. By the time I reached the town with the funny name on the Tennessee border, my heart had eased and I felt better. Ready to turn the car around and go back, pick up the pieces and start again.  There have been many trips to Jellico since that first one. All begun in the dark of sleepless nights when my heart feels heavy. Miles passing under me marked only by tears. It has become a Mecca for my heavy heart. The perfect distance for me to let things go and return exhausted, but ready for something different.  So after getting up and meandering at 3:00AM, 3:30, walking the quiet dark neighborhood at 4AM, I found myself lacing my shoes at 5AM and pointing my car south once again. Hoping that Jellico would hold the magic for me one more time.