Step by Step The Longest March, Can Be Won

Every journey begins with a single step. Or in this case, a road trip with my husband of 28 years, Mike. This was the first trip we made by ourselves since the birds left the nest.
It took several hundred miles of driving to cover the distance that had come between us. All those years of putting the family first, had to be crossed. Like a dessert.

The oasis of reconnecting was in the car somewhere. We just had to make the right turns and follow the conversation down the right path.

It was a long trip. We drove from Hillsboro, Kansas to Fort Wayne, Indiana. Overnight, about eighteen hours on the road. We didn't take the Interstate. We took the back roads. Most of the route is Highway 36. Sometimes we were the only car on the horizon. Hwy 36 goes through small towns along the way, (John Cougar "Small Town" playing in the background).
It bypasses the metro areas.

At about Troy, Kansas, the coversation shifted gears. All the excess fluff had blown off our words, like a dandelion head in the Kansas wind.

"We don't have conversations anymore. I have monologues, and you ignore me." I said.

The unstated part of that is, and what are we going to do about it?

Being alone in a vehicle is a good place to wrestle this demon. There is no escape.

So we started talking about what a long strange trip it's been. ("Truckin" by the Grateful Dead playing in the background). Twentyeight years together. The distance between us is there, but seems to be a distance we can bridge. Keeping a marriage together is like building an arch, all the pieces have to support one another. There are some loose stones here and there, but overall the structure of our marriage is sound.

This is the chronicle of the bridge building. Shoring up the weak spots.

Step by step the longest march can be won, can be won.
Many stones to make an arch, singly none, singly none.
And by union what we will, can be acomlished still
Drops of water turn a wheel, singly none, singly none.