We make
the 16-hour trek for 2 of the 3 big breaks from school - Christmas and summer.
Spring break is typically beach time. I feel certain that if my in-laws ever
move to the Texas coast, Spring Break would then qualify for the
traveling-to-Texas trifecta.
I don't
mind the drive. Really. My gypsy soul tends to get restless near the end of May
and November in anticipation of hitting the open road. My family has seemed to
accept this about me, if not acquired the quality themselves. It certainly
makes for more pleasant traveling, if nothing else. We have our traditions
(always stop and gaze upon the Mississippi River, no matter what time of day or
night) and games ("OK, who will spot a green convertible, giant peanut, or
goat first?"). All in all, it's a wonderful family experience.
Ironically,
the only real arguments that break out are over the one thing placed in our
vehicle to help ease the drive time monotony - the DVD player. Deciding on a
movie, who gets to choose the movie, in what slot the movie should be returned
in the multiple DVD case, who gets to hold the DVD case, who gets to hand the
DVD to Mom to place in the player, at what volume should the movie be played,
at what angle should the screen be set to avoid the most glare, the proper way
to clean a DVD disc, why the DVD is skipping, why our DVD player a piece of
junk, why we should or should not buy a new minivan because of our crummy DVD
player, why Dad threw that last DVD out the window, was that a bad word Dad
said, why Mom is looking at Dad like that...
You get
the idea.
This trip
was of the summer variety. We left late afternoon and hit Atlanta a few brief
moments after the heavens had unleashed their fury upon the metropolitan area,
catching the northern end of a storm that produced 65 mph. winds, quarter-sized
hail, blinding rain, lots of stop-and-go driving and flashing hazards on the
road. Horrendous conditions for driving through Chunky, Alabama, much less
traffic-swollen Atlanta.
Little
did I know that this storm was just the beginning of a wondrous display of
natural beauty, the likes of which I had never experienced before.
One
amazing light show produced and directed by Mother Nature (read about the
synchronized firefly display previously posted) is uncommon. But that was just
a warm-up for her main event.
As soon
as we cleared the rain of Atlanta, the westward skies remained cloudy. I
anticipated driving through pockets of storms until we decided to stop for the
evening. Not my choice for a pleasant, peaceful nighttime trek across the
southeast. Any other time, rain is pleasant and peaceful. I love it. Just not
when I'm trying to navigate my way around and between 18-wheelers, motorcycles,
stalled Oldsmobiles, the texting teenager, and ma and pa going 30 in the
lefthand lane...at night.
That,
thankfully, was not the case. Instead, we were treated to the most unbelievable
lightning show this side of the Mississippi. The only reason I know this is
because we stopped for the night just east of Jackson. It may have been the
same on the other side of the river. I just don't know for sure.
This was
no ordinary lightning, if lightning can ever really be ordinary. No sir, no
run-of-the-mill cloud-to-ground snoozers here. Not your everyday tree-blaster.
Not even a brief cloud illuminator. The show we saw lit the entire skyward
horizon between the outermost peripheries of our vision as we gazed westward.
The electric fireworks paused for no longer than 10 seconds during the
remainder of the night, a trip from Atlanta to Jackson, Mississippi. Not only
did we get to see how the Earth would put on a Pink Floyd laser light show, we
got to witness this marvel for hours nonstop. Were it not for other vehicles on
the road, I'm not sure we actually needed headlights to illuminate I-20.
As my
passengers quietly nodded off into a sleep, no doubt filled with dreams of
wonder, I realized I was privy to another one of those rare moments of wonder
myself. It was simply and staggeringly beautiful. As the lights of Jackson
appeared on the far horizon, Van Morrison quietly serenaded my drive with
"Moondance", and the light show played on. I knew this was a truly
special moment. I also knew I needed to stop for the night. The next day would hold
more travel time (we were a little over half way now), more games, a stop at
the Mighty Mississippi, and the part I anticipate the most: who knows what
else.
