After spending days in the remote and not-busy-this-time-of-year Keweenaw Peninsula, driving back down to the main part of the Upper Peninsula feels like returning to the mainland. It’s funny, because usually arriving in the UP from the lower peninsula feels like finally stepping away from the mayhem and busy-ness of the more metropolitan areas, yet this time, heading south into the UP proper and especially into Marquette feels like approaching Detroit or Grand Rapids – cars, constructions, stop lights, franchise after franchise after franchise. Everything is relational.
My day job is as a software support person for 20-plus school districts in the southwest region of Michigan. I love my job, though I’ve come to realize it is a short-view type of love, more like a crush, in that it doesn’t really fill my bucket. I truly believe and am thankful that I’m helping people; it’s just not in any way that feels especially significant. The job is a new puzzle every day, which I love, and I am continually learning and expanding my skills and abilities. One of the ways I get to keep learning is through conferences, and since I love to travel, this is an especially appreciated bonus to my work life. The regional fall conference this year is on Mackinaw Island, which is typically bursting it’s borders with throngs of tourists on bicycles, and horses and buggies transporting people and baggage throughout the no-motorized-vehicles-permitted streets of the historic island. I have taken the ferry a number of times during the warm summer months, to share the beauty with my exchange daughters and my daughter, but coming now in October (the second time I’ve been able to come during “off-season”) is substantially more enjoyable for me. Though I do love to people watch, in general crowds do not bring me joy. I’m looking forward to a quieter, less-populated visit to the island.
I feel the same sadness I often do heading back toward the Mackinaw Bridge, leaving the rugged beauty of the Upper for another trip, so on the way toward the island, we stretch our “upper trip” one night longer by spending a windy, snowy night in Manistique. It’s nice to be able to “transition” back to reality with some days on the island before heading all the way south to home and the daily routine, and it’s especially nice to have just one more night in the UP before heading to the island.
The next morning, it is snowing and cold, and though the sadness in leaving the upper is still with me, the excitement of the next leg of the trip is taking my mind off of the “leaving” and instead focusing on these last miles before “arriving” at our next destination.
What is it about travel that makes me simultaneously long for something and also feel I’ve found it? It is like living in the moment while craving something long lost…perhaps its the fleeting nature of a vacation, knowing that it is only a temporary reprieve. Perhaps it is, for me, that I do not love where I currently live, nor do I find true satisfaction from my work, so that travel affords me an opportunity to breathe in enjoyment for longer stretches than when I am “home”, where, please understand, I do find moments of deep pleasure – my hikes and walks and dogs and enchanted back yard and books and music all allow me to breathe in joyful breaths of gratitude and appreciation. They are shorter moments, yet I find them frequently. I wonder if living in a place I loved would ultimately bring me the feeling of having found home, or if it too would become a daily grind, and I would need to travel to “get away”. I think it’s all in how we live – there is something to be said for living where you love, but we can also find things to love no matter where we live. I personally want to do both, and until then, I am so thankful for the moments and places that keep reminding me of my heart’s desire.
