When you're feeling particularly despondent and stressed as I was after dropping my youngest off for her first year of college, no ordinary motorcycle ride will do. No, it must be a long one on a beautiful day. Fortunately for me, Saturday was just that.
We headed south to visit my son. To get to him, we take highway 281 which runs along the edge of the Nebraska Sandhills. The highway is in good shape, and it doesn't get much traffic since it runs through sparsely populated towns that are set far apart.
As we rode, I kept thinking about the expanse of the land that stretched off all around me, comparing that to my trip to Manhattan earlier this summer. Manhattan is wonderful, but it covers an area roughly 13 miles long and 2 and a half miles wide, which makes it not quite 23 square miles. The Nebraska Sandhills are 19,300 square miles!!
On my Saturday ride, I traversed 13 mile stretch after 13 mile stretch without seeing a single person (other than my boyfriend on his bike behind mine), a single house, a single vehicle, or even a single cow. And I was only on the very edge of the hills -- the rest reach across the state for over 250 more miles.
That open and uncluttered space was what I needed to release the sadness I'd been feeling. Out with the bad, in with the good -- as some old saying goes.
We rode along with only the roar of our bikes as company, the road leading us down its seemingly endless path. The hills rolled beside us, and they were resplendent with wild yellow sunflowers in bloom everywhere.
As I crested one low hill, my eyes momentarily deceived me, and I thought I was approaching the ocean, but then I realized it was a field of alfalfa all abloom with its bluish-purplish flowers. As the plants swayed in the breeze, it certainly created the illusion of waves lapping gently at the shore.
I kept thinking, too, as I really looked out over the land, that if it weren't for the highway cutting through the hills and the line of utility poles occasionally running alongside it, I could very well be seeing this land the way the Native Americans once saw it -- virtually untouched.
I'm not usually a big fan of the Nebraska Sandhills simply because they are such a lonely place; however, just as a rainy day or a Christmas snowfall can be comforting, so can these hills to a mom who has just watched her last child leave home. The hills and their gentle simplicity along with their everlasting quality gave me peace of mind that all would be fine.
So, I rode for hours that day, stopping to see my son and have lunch with him. He's starting his first year as a P.E. teacher and head coach. My daughter is starting her first year as a college student. I'm starting my first year without them. It's hard, but I'll keep rolling -- on and on, like those Sandhills.
