Of Yearning and Mercy, Part I

November 8. Day 4 – Hot Springs, Arkansas. And so began this journey four days ago, kissed with fare-thee-well’s, one by one with friends, then family before turning my compass westward for an unnumbered stretch of days. I overnighted end of day at Love’s Truck Stop in Baxter, Tennessee alongside a stretch of vans, cars, trucks, and semis, all of us en route to somewhere and nowhere all the same.

Then, it occurred to me. I am not on vacation. I am not traveling on business. No one is expecting me anywhere.

That last thought caught my breath. Made me anxious.

I want to get to the desert. That’s all. But what’s my hurry?

I ventured off I-40 afternoon of Day 2 and rolled into Hot Springs about an hour before dusk.

I wandered for a bit, then parked the van on a level spot in front of Hotel Hot Springs, the sky becoming disquieting as night fell. It was heavy, brown, and bruised. I soon discovered that far and wide, to the north and south, there were extended tornado warnings, a storm sys…