Notes from the Road #1

Boston, MA to Niagara Falls, NY

Welcome to the first installment of this little series! These will be mini notes/reflections/thoughts as I’m making my way west across the country. This series is just for paid subscribers, so if you’d like to follow along, now is a good time to upgrade to a paid sub. :)

Driving out of Boston was rocky. The week leading up to this trip—all the packing, logistics, selling furniture, planning routes, I’d felt emotionally numb, more attuned to the tasks at hand than the swell of my emotions. So by the time my sister and I had smooshed it all into the car, jigsawed my boxes and compromised on the number of plants I was bringing (the cactus didn’t make the cut), I felt everything release—a cataract of emotion.

Sweet plants had a good view at least

I kept leaking water from my face until I had little rings of salt around each eye and the crying became more intermittent and I got a fucking grip and was able to take a turn at the wheel. Through the afternoon we drove through the lush green of New England and by early evening, when the sun was hanging red over the Rust Belt cities on Lake Erie, we arrived in Niagara Falls.

In June, when I had dinner with my dear writing friend who, several decades ago, road-tripped across the country to attend a craft fair with her woodworking partner, she told me I had to do the Maid of the Mist boat tour in Niagara. “You get so close to the Falls, almost too close,” she said, recounting how she was handed a poncho as she boarded the boat, but got drenched anyway as they motored into the mist.