U.S. HIGHWAY 264

A hard rain pounded down on my Dodge Shadow as we drove a long stretch of U.S. Highway 264 in Eastern North Carolina. Sheet upon sheet of warm southern rain slapped the windshield, the wipers frantically sweeping back and forth in a futile attempt to provide even a few seconds of visibility. The numerous vehicles traveling the highway with me crept along blindly, all of us searching for a safe place to stop.

I could see the blurry taillights in front of me as drivers slowly navigated their way to the safety of the shoulder. The dark shadow of a large overpass had appeared through the heavy drops and offered shelter for those lucky to park under it. The rest of us gratefully created a community of travelers content to wait out the storm on the side of the road even though the storm continued to pelt us with unending rain.

I took a deep breath and sighed in relief as I parked the car. I looked over at my mother, who rode shotgun on my trip to Wilson, North Carolina, for my interview at Ralph L. Fike High School the next day. She made the sign of the cross and thanked me for pulling over. I did the same, praying that the water would not generate a flood that would wash us away.

We watched brave souls in their cars slowly inch past us into a dark, rainy horizon. Their red brake lights periodically flashed as if sending a distress message in Morse code. Eventually, those flashes faded and disappeared as they moved just yards down the road.

We passed the time ourselves straightening up the car. Before folding the unfoldable AAA paper map, I traced the highlighted path to see how far we had traveled that day. Occasionally, I glanced in my rearview mirror to see if the storm had subsided behind us, but I only found darkness and the blurred yellow headlights of other cars as the rainwater washed down my rear window.

After what seemed to be an eternity of rainfall, the gathering of dark clouds drifted off, carrying its power and majesty away from U.S. 264, where it would slowly dissipate into nothingness. Windshield wipers began sweeping off the dwindling remnants of rain as cars slowly rejoined the road to their destinations.

Mom and I continued our trek towards Wilson, enjoying the ever-changing scenery beneath the reemerging light of the southern sun. Behind us were the snaking turns through the mountains of West Virginia and Virginia and the growing developments along a busy Interstate 40 from Winston-Salem to the outskirts of Raleigh. After nine adventurous hours of map-referencing, an occasional missed exit or two, and numerous rest area stops, we had made it to the proverbial home stretch.

The landscape settled into a double-laned highway whose edges bordered a beautiful expanse of flat farmlands interspersed among sections of untouched groups of tall, thin pines whose tips touched the blue sky. Rows of crepe myrtles and spent daylilies separated the east and west sides of the highway, which shot forward in a straight line through a late afternoon sun that knew nothing of the storm that rested here a short time ago.

I am amazed that this memory has remained with me for over 30 years. Anxious anticipation and desperate indecision filled my first journey along U.S. 264. Two years after graduating from West Liberty State College, I was excited about landing my first teaching job, yet moving 500 miles away made this a difficult choice. The moment left a bittersweet indelible mark, not of a completed story but of one chapter in a life full of enduring memories like this.

Wonder, excitement, and anticipation surrounding a new chapter in life can accompany the subtle discomfort of change, which can take the form of loss, fear, and regret. Disparate emotions converge to form imperfect storms that can slow us to a stop, cleanse us, refresh us, and then send us on our way, perhaps even bring us back again.