Ninety-eight days before departing on a trip to the Last Frontier. Down to double digits in days remaining before the Mistress roars to life and heads out on the highway for a twenty-three day tour.
Six months have passed since the death of my mom. Into my fourth month of exercising, twenty-five pounds have been shed. Haven’t enjoyed a single forty-four once fountain pop at the local gas station since November. And I have gone from needing to acquire more than six dozen things for the trip and to completing hundreds of hours of maintenance and upgrades to the motorcycle to having less than five things remaining on the overall to do list.
Numbers. Life is just a pile of numbers when you think about it. Our lives revolve around the deterioration of seconds, each that passes brings up closer to our ultimate fates. Each day that passes brings up memories in the future we reflect on…and for many of those, desperately wish we could have back to relive.
Humans are creatures of habit, of patterns; whom seem similarity and comfort in all that we do and the actions we undertake in our lives. New experiences yet to come bring us nervous anticipation and the desire to reach out and try something new, as long as we have those items of comfort around us that bring us a measure of tranquility and familiarity.
There was nearly three hundred days to wade through before the day would arrive in which I would leave for Alaska. Now, under with the count remaining in the nineties, the trip of a lifetime looms much nearer. Nightly dreams are filled with the possibilities of the upcoming adventure, and all underutilized moments of consciousness are spent researching and planning for the upcoming trip.
Anybody I know will tell you that while I always enjoy my vacations, never before have I so eagerly anticipated the arrival of one. My wife can tell you that while the months leading up to a departure date gets her excited, I have always remained calm even as we boarded the plane to some exotic destination to relax in the sun. It has previously bothered her that while she got excited, I simply did not feel the brew of eagerness welling up inside me like she was experiencing. This upcoming journey is different for me; because unlike a vacation in which people want to experience relaxation, some sunshine, and made some enjoyable activities, this is something that is very personal to me that will allow me to complete a few chapters in my life that until then have remained opened.
Today is a vacation day from work. While many would use the opportunity to sleep in, I awoke very early in the morning as usual to get a start on the day. Instead of the normal driving to the fitness center to work out as I do each weekday morning, I chose to go out to breakfast with my wife. Eating a breakfast of despicable biscuits and sausage gravy, a fattening but well-deserved treat to myself for the week, I discovered that the Waffle House we were visiting really had terrible food. After forcing down half a plate, my attention turned to the never hot coffee and chit-chat with my wife who would proceed to work.
Back home, I write in this blog because it’s been almost a month since my last entry; and the realization that I am about three months away from a journey of a lifetime. I have two remaining things to do on the bike; replace the hand grips and fix the CB radio. The grips can be done alone, the CB requires help from another CB user. Guess today the grips will finally get changed out. And then maybe I’ll start playing with the waterproof Nikon AW110 that I have but without any idea how to use the advanced features.
Or, maybe I’ll start messing around with the video camera and the microphone. I’d like to document the upcoming journey with video and photos; just not sure how to do that yet. The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step; so I guess the making of a documentary begins with pushing the record button and simply talking. So maybe we’ll see what I can do with that later today. Time for a decent cup of coffee to get this day actually going for me.