Fourteen hours. 

Fourteen hours from the mountains to the Mississippi. 

Fourteen hours from Orion on the pre-dawn horizon to friends huddled around a bonfire.

Driving across the plains feels like the earth is catapulting us over its farthest edge. The shivering road shakes our bones. Our minds flutter and sway from memory to anticipation, back and forth, betwixt and between.

We have seen such newness. Unfamiliar sounds have echoed in our ears. Strange winds have pricked our skin. 

We have met new faces, heard new voices, hugged new friends. 

But now, it is time to return to familiar lands. To the bluffs and farms just turning firey with autumn. To the rivers that carry our whispers.

We will be as rivers, carrying new bonds, new wisdom, new songs to meander and mix with our home waters. 

Fourteen hours between the strange and the known. Fourteen hours betwixt the past and the future. 

Fourteen hours of aching hearts and fluttery stomachs. A dance of excitement and reminiscence.

We yearn for home. We yearn for the road.

Forever betwixt. Forever between.

"This is not a memory. This is a beginning." 

Until next time,

- C + GB