LJ Idol: Love is a Kentuck in a Truck (Week 5)
therealljidol Entry of the Week!
If you like my journal entry, vote for me here. Be sure to look at other contestants' entries...there's a lot of really sweet entries this week.
What do you like best about where you live now? What do you miss about a place you've left behind?
"Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God." -- Ruth 1:16
Whenever I remember the circumstances that led to me moving from Western Pennsylvania to Kentucky in June 2006, the above Bible verse comes to mind. My mister had asked me to share my life with him in Kentucky. A long-haul truck-driver, Soop had spent an entire year dividing his time between the two regions. His three sons tied him to Lexington and his love for me tugged at him in New Castle. However, his obligation to his three sons could not be broken. If we all lived in one location, home-time would no longer need to be spread thin. And so I decided to leave my home for Soop. I packed as many belongings as I could fit into my Chevy Cavalier and I headed southwest. I go where he goes.
I enjoy Frankfort. Kentucky's capital gives me the small-town feel where I'm comfortable. At the same time, I am located mere hours from places like Lexington, Louisville, Cincinnati, and Columbus. The horse farms filled with green hills and peaceful beasts offer a breath-taking sight. The cost of living doesn't damage my wallet, and I consider my home a haven for myself and for others. In fact, I just recently opened my home to my younger brother and his fiancee. Frankfort is a good place for homebodies. Soop and I don't partake in the night-life when he comes home every other weekend--but if we wanted to, we could drive to Lexington and attend concerts at the Dame. I found that people aren't any nicer or ruder in the south than in Pennsylvania, but the accents are more charming here no matter what tone is used.
What I like most about Kentucky, however, is the abundance of abandoned buildings. Soop and I have explored dilapidated schoolhouses, two distilleries, an amazing mineral-springs hotel, a baseball field, a barge, homesteads, and more. We thrive on finding these forgotten treasures tucked away in forested hollers.
“And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her.” --Genesis 29:20
Will I spend the rest of my life in Frankfort, Kentucky? I'm unsure. I told Soop I would live in Kentucky until his children grow up. This will be another 7-8 years. Like Jacob, I do not mind my stay in Kentucky due to my love to my Soop. I know I have a home in Pennsylvania where I can return if the homesickness tugs too strongly on my heart-strings.
However, the place I miss is not a state or a state of mind. It is a red big-rig named Sally and the man who drives it.
I lived with Soop in his truck for an entire month before we moved to Kentucky. I liked shocking people by telling them that I was dating a homeless person. However, Soop calls Sally his home. We nestled in the cab each night and woke up with the sunrise to get rolling. I'd sit in the passenger seat with my legs propped on the dashboard as we watched movies and cackled over comedy albums. Other times we'd stare ahead in silence, content with each other's presence. Friends assumed we'd surely kill each other while living in such small confines, but we never did. We showered together at truck-stops and washed our laundry with bemused truckers watching me put my slinky underthings into the dryer. We ate at small-town diners filled with American kitsch. Our homebody nature lured us into the truck for the majority of the time. We're compact and we enjoy invading each other's personal space. What could be better? We even kept a map that, instead of tracking, "States I've Been To," said, "States Where We've Had Sex." At last count it was twenty-one.
How many people can claim to visit Las Vegas, Kansas City, Montana, Chicago, Nevada, Minnesota, and Los Angeles all within a week or two? We did all this, meeting with dear friends along the way and gorging ourselves with regional cuisines. I would have never met so many wonderful people had I chosen to stay in Pennsylvania until the move. Soop and I also had long, meaningful conversations uninterrupted by dropped phone signals and sketchy internet connections. And when we needed alone time, a curtain could separate us quite nicely.
Now that I have a full-time job, I cannot hop into the truck on a moment's whim like I used to. It's funny missing a truck. Sometimes when Soop is home, I hop into the front seat just to inhale the stench of trucker and cigarettes. I'd love to return to the road someday. It's liberating living a modern gypsy lifestyle with my possessions tucked into a duffel bag and love tucked into my heart.
But no matter what, I will go where he goes.
If you like my journal entry, vote for me here. Be sure to look at other contestants' entries...there's a lot of really sweet entries this week.
What do you like best about where you live now? What do you miss about a place you've left behind?
"Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God." -- Ruth 1:16
Whenever I remember the circumstances that led to me moving from Western Pennsylvania to Kentucky in June 2006, the above Bible verse comes to mind. My mister had asked me to share my life with him in Kentucky. A long-haul truck-driver, Soop had spent an entire year dividing his time between the two regions. His three sons tied him to Lexington and his love for me tugged at him in New Castle. However, his obligation to his three sons could not be broken. If we all lived in one location, home-time would no longer need to be spread thin. And so I decided to leave my home for Soop. I packed as many belongings as I could fit into my Chevy Cavalier and I headed southwest. I go where he goes.
I enjoy Frankfort. Kentucky's capital gives me the small-town feel where I'm comfortable. At the same time, I am located mere hours from places like Lexington, Louisville, Cincinnati, and Columbus. The horse farms filled with green hills and peaceful beasts offer a breath-taking sight. The cost of living doesn't damage my wallet, and I consider my home a haven for myself and for others. In fact, I just recently opened my home to my younger brother and his fiancee. Frankfort is a good place for homebodies. Soop and I don't partake in the night-life when he comes home every other weekend--but if we wanted to, we could drive to Lexington and attend concerts at the Dame. I found that people aren't any nicer or ruder in the south than in Pennsylvania, but the accents are more charming here no matter what tone is used.
What I like most about Kentucky, however, is the abundance of abandoned buildings. Soop and I have explored dilapidated schoolhouses, two distilleries, an amazing mineral-springs hotel, a baseball field, a barge, homesteads, and more. We thrive on finding these forgotten treasures tucked away in forested hollers.
“And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her.” --Genesis 29:20
Will I spend the rest of my life in Frankfort, Kentucky? I'm unsure. I told Soop I would live in Kentucky until his children grow up. This will be another 7-8 years. Like Jacob, I do not mind my stay in Kentucky due to my love to my Soop. I know I have a home in Pennsylvania where I can return if the homesickness tugs too strongly on my heart-strings.
However, the place I miss is not a state or a state of mind. It is a red big-rig named Sally and the man who drives it.
I lived with Soop in his truck for an entire month before we moved to Kentucky. I liked shocking people by telling them that I was dating a homeless person. However, Soop calls Sally his home. We nestled in the cab each night and woke up with the sunrise to get rolling. I'd sit in the passenger seat with my legs propped on the dashboard as we watched movies and cackled over comedy albums. Other times we'd stare ahead in silence, content with each other's presence. Friends assumed we'd surely kill each other while living in such small confines, but we never did. We showered together at truck-stops and washed our laundry with bemused truckers watching me put my slinky underthings into the dryer. We ate at small-town diners filled with American kitsch. Our homebody nature lured us into the truck for the majority of the time. We're compact and we enjoy invading each other's personal space. What could be better? We even kept a map that, instead of tracking, "States I've Been To," said, "States Where We've Had Sex." At last count it was twenty-one.
How many people can claim to visit Las Vegas, Kansas City, Montana, Chicago, Nevada, Minnesota, and Los Angeles all within a week or two? We did all this, meeting with dear friends along the way and gorging ourselves with regional cuisines. I would have never met so many wonderful people had I chosen to stay in Pennsylvania until the move. Soop and I also had long, meaningful conversations uninterrupted by dropped phone signals and sketchy internet connections. And when we needed alone time, a curtain could separate us quite nicely.
Now that I have a full-time job, I cannot hop into the truck on a moment's whim like I used to. It's funny missing a truck. Sometimes when Soop is home, I hop into the front seat just to inhale the stench of trucker and cigarettes. I'd love to return to the road someday. It's liberating living a modern gypsy lifestyle with my possessions tucked into a duffel bag and love tucked into my heart.
But no matter what, I will go where he goes.