Waterloo Road
“Waterloo Road.” My jeep’s headlights finally flash against the bright green exit sign, illuminating the two most important words on my mind, and signaling my homecoming.
The exit is bordered by a QuikTrip resembling a spaceship, a dilapidated Conoco (defeated in the shadow of its grandiose, exuberant neighbor), and a John Deere sales park flooded with orange and green tractors. I can’t remember when they replaced the catfish barn on the hill—which was somehow featured on Man vs. Food—with the QuikTrip. I also can’t recall the moment red clay and construction replaced the forested landscape on the northwest corner. But it did. And I know it’s different than it once was, however, it feels like it’s how it’s always been.
Waterloo Road reminds me of the hot, southern summer and the 4th of July. The road runs completely straight from West to East. South of Waterloo is Oklahoma County. North of it lies another county and a firework free-for-all in the summer. I vividly picture my high school friends and I in our jeeps, bumping along Waterloo, maybe buying limeades and slushes at the Sonic Drive-In.
I crank down by the driver’s window. Although it’s January, it’s oddly warm for this time of year, or maybe my driver-daze is inducing a time-warp to worry-less days. Reaching for the volume dial on the simple Jeep panel, I twist my audible book to zero. After 4.5 years away, I’m home indefinitely. The ten-hour cruise through the planes has ended. I want to soak in every emotion.
My brother says I can be dramatic sometimes with my “main character energy” or act like I’m in a Hollywood movie. That doesn’t bother me - I think living that way can add depth, meaning, and excitement during the highs, lows, and in-betweens.
I remember him and I standing there earlier today, after we finished stuffing my Jeep with boxes. I remarked that I had no idea when I’d return or what my life may look like in a few months.
“It’s all unbelievable,” I sighed as I looked longingly at my empty, echoing apartment. “I never thought this day would arrive.”
“You weren’t looking at the camera, Bri,” he laughed. “Say it again with more drama and from your good side.”
Time passes quickly. Life is weird. When I acknowledge significant moments wholeheartedly, I can almost trick myself into believing I have more control over life. Like I’m more prepared and knowledgeable about its whims and woes. HA! Can’t trick me, life. I know change is coming and this period of my life is ending. I know it’ll be sad later, but I already know it, so there!
I must believe big change feels surreal for everyone. Courageously running into the unknown feels comparable to a gigantic leap into rushing air, where you float and soar. Fearfully being yanked into the unknown feels more like someone is pulling you into a dark cave, led by a dimly lit candle. Lately, I bounce back and forth between the two.
