Defeated

When I met my friend David, he was making logs out of ice. I thought it sounded great- he built a refrigeration system and made molds of logs and filled them with water and froze them. He was on his way toward making a raft, which he would eventually float down a river or something, and it was so beautiful and touching. I think he may have worked on it for two years and the day came when it was time to release it into the world. I think there was a crew of twelve people helping him get the raft into the water. It sank right away.

I feel like David must have. Like I just executed a beautiful failure. I have been planning to do this walk since January and here I am, walking away from it. There is something really important here that I haven’t figured out. But when it kept raining, and I stopped walking, it felt like all this preparation and courage deflated, and I was defeated. I probably should have kept walking, because then I would be a hero. But I don’t have the energy to be heroic right now. I am exhausted and depressed and my feet have been wet for two days, not to mention feeling unsafe- a woman walking alone in the rain-hmmm. I don't know what Henry would have done, but I know he wasn't a woman and there weren't cars. He could have been a faster walker than me, he could have hopped a freight train, he could have known where to take shelter since it was his territory, he couldacouldacoulda...

My friend Ben sent me a nice text message tonight commenting on my feeling like a spectacle. It said “you are only a spectacle because you are doing something remarkable”. I can’t help but feel like this was a test run to prepare me for the next time- like this is the sketch. I have to figure out a way to share this story with a greater public, and why it is so important to me to do this. It’s not recognitions if it’s hermetic. I can't do it alone. I was distracted away from my intentions by wondering, when I heard a car near me, if it would stop.

What I did instead of walk today: called Mr. Jim Phillips and asked to visit the graveyard on his land where my g-g-g grandparent’s are said to be buried and where they held camp meetings in tents. He generously comes to meet us and tells us everything he knows (thank you!!!). We are told that there is also a “colored cemetery” nearby, but nothing is marked. The only way we know is because all of the land caved in recently, when some of the wooden coffins finally gave in. (photo above) Wonder if Henry is buried there?

Doesn’t seem anything is left of our family. All the fortune is gone. Thank goodness.

The walk is over. Incomplete. Who wants to go with me next year? I realize now I can't do it alone. It's not about that. I'm nobody without you.