weary travellers

ShamrockTxHowdy

I don’t get a lot of time off from my job.

Even when I was only working for the Post Office part-time as a substitute driver, it was awkward to get big chunks of my life open to do important things.

So when we did anything “epic”…and I was able to get some time to myself and my family…we might have pushed a little harder than if I was just meandering like I’d like to do.

The first time we drove out West to visit my wife’s family in Colorado, we rented a car and just kept driving.

We pointed the vehicle “left” on the map, and didn’t “stop going” until we couldn’t go anymore.

We didn’t have much time. Time was valuable. If I didn’t sleep…and just could stay awake and drive…and drive….and drive….and drive…then maybe we could get there quickly and somehow cram a couple of months worth of visit into an “almost two-week” trip.

I finally ran out of gas (figuratively…the car was OK and was ready for more.  It was me who couldn’t handle anymore forcing my eyes to stay open) in a town called Shamrock.

Shamrock, Texas.  Home of the Shamrock Inn and its 14 item breakfast buffet, included with each nights stay.

That ratty old motel was like a little slice of heaven…with a small “h”, of course.

I wonder how many places like that become a part of a family’s mythology just because of their proximity to a new adventure?

It was the Forrest Gump of roadside oasis’. It has a permanent place in our history because it was around when we needed it…and it was kind of weird.

We don’t talk about any of the nice places we’ve stayed at in our travels.

We’ve been fortunate to stay at some nice places.  They were appreciated at the time. We recognized luxury when it was presented to us.

But none of these “nice places” are as memorable as places like the Shamrock Inn.

We joke now that if you have a fair number of condiments…or a couple of different types of syrup for the pancakes…that you can bump up a few offerings into the “mega-buffet” status.

Four items can become 14 if you describe it correctly.

It felt so good to stop in Shamrock.

It was right to get to lay down for a while.

Caffeine and adrenaline can only get you so far.

“Rest” was worth a hundred of my kingdoms that night.

Now I’m going to let my “metaphorical comet” round Earth and head back out into space.

What if…and everything is a “what if” when you get down to brass tacks, even the past is a “what if” when we have a chance to try and figure out what “really happened”…what if Heaven (with a capital ‘H’….the big Heaven) was really the ultimate place of rest?

What if Heaven was the restful comfort we’ll never know on this Earth…and it never misrepresented the buffet, either?

I AM JUST SAYING.  I’m just sayin’.

For all our conjecture and “ologies”, maybe Heaven is just a place to rest….and a place to be “with”.

A place to be “with” sounds good to me.

Until I get a chance to “pull over and turn off the ignition”, I’ll have to be content with remembering how good it felt to open the door to our little room in Shamrock, Texas all those years ago.

It felt good to rest.

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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