Letting Go

Hello again folks.

Once again, I feel I should start off with an apology. We know it's been a while since you've all heard from us, but it seems as if the news of our latest experiences are leaking out through other people, and it just doesn't seem fair that you don't hear it from us first.

I don't really know if it's my place to relay this information by myself, but I know that all four of us are busy making new plans, so I'm not sure when the others will have a chance to get around to writing their own thoughts.

Here's a basic update from when we last posted: about two and a half weeks ago, we made it a record-breaking 23 miles in one day from Ironside, Oregon into Brogan...almost. I only made it 22 miles, because about a mile out of town I started feeling kinda queasy and had to stop. It wasn't long before I was throwing up in the bushes, from what I thought was the blistering heat. Lauren and Jonathan booked it into town and stopped at Vilsmeyer's store, where we met Sharon and Richard Chubbs, the owners. I got a ride back and after things calmed down we discovered they had a cabin they rent out for about $55 a night. Since it was air-conditioned and I needed to get out of the heat, we took them up on it. We ended up staying three nights, but the first night they drove us into Ontario to go to the ER. Six hours later we had all been seen, and I discovered I had a stomach virus for which I got antibiotics. It was a bit of a relief to know that it hadn't been just the heat that was getting to me.

For the record, I'm perfectly fine now. My traveling companions, however, each received some news of their own from the doctor, and I think it's only fair that I let them tell their own stories. But that was the first day we were faced with the devastating news that our walk might be coming to a close.

However, we did make it across Oregon. We stayed for five days in Vale with the delightful Moreno family, and over the next week we really got to know Vince, Lisa, and their five sons: Mario, Gabe, Mark, Paul and Vince Jr. They were literally a Godsend to us, taking us in with no questions asked, keeping us fed and well occupied, taking us where we needed to go and even where we didn't. Last Saturday Vince Sr. drove us all into Boise where we came to stay with Karlene and Matt Williams and their three children, Kaylan, Sierra and Corbin. Two days ago Jonathan and Lauren flew home, and Katelyn and I stayed behind in Boise, where we still are now, with very little clue as to where we could, and should, go from here.

The days and weeks that followed after Brogan were, I have to say, pretty emotionally turbulent. I knew that our group was dissolving, but I wasn't ready to stop and go home yet. There still were, and are, things that I needed to see and do and people that I need to meet and talk to and capture on film before I can say that I'm ready to be done. I was angry and upset and frustrated and lost and confused and sad, not any one person or thing, but just at the entire situation and how things seemed to be playing out. I don't know how many times over and over again I prayed this simple prayer: "Lord, help. I just don't know what to do anymore." I thought about Katelyn and I continuing the walk, just the two of us, but the amount of equipment we would need to carry plus safety concerns worried us. Not only that, but Katelyn went to the doctor the other day and found out she has a stress fracture in her foot. If she were to continue walking, she was told, she would not be able to dance again. Kind of a tough decision for a dance major with only one semester left to graduate. If we wanted to take the time for it to heal, we would have to wait three to four weeks. Kind of a long time to just sit around not really doing much.

So it seemed like everyone we talked to and everything that was happening was telling us gently it was time to let go. What had started out as a walk across America was apparently only going to be a walk across Oregon, which is still a pretty amazing feat, if you ask me. Still, I've been going through a grieving process. I've witnessed the death of a dream, so to speak; this is something that we've all poured sweat, blood and tears into for well over a year, that we all worked desperately and relentlessly at to come true, and I feel like it's been wrenched from my fingers before I even knew what was going on. I don't know if the others feel the same way I do about it, I know that it's been said it's always something we can pick up later in life, but I just don't see why. I mean, I was ready now; I came all this way, put the next year of my life on hold to finish this, and now it's done only seven weeks later? How does that make sense?

Thus far, I only know this much: I can't go home yet, much as I would love to, and I can't give up on this film. Not yet. I don't know why or what is compelling me to continue, but I know that if I stopped now, I would always regret it.

However, since walking is out, Katelyn and I are forced to go in a new direction. We still want to see the country, so we've decided we're picking up a car. I'm meeting up with my folks in Denver probably as early as this weekend, and they're bringing us a Kia Spectra5 Hatchback that they just traded in my old Toyota Tercel for. The car's supposed to be for my sister, but she's graciously allowed Katelyn and I to take it for now, until our travels are done. Obviously, a whole new set of problems and troubles arise, most notably: how the heck are we going to get enough money to pay for gas? But I know that we've been provided for thus far and if this is something we're supposed to do, and I really feel that it is, we'll get along okay.

I guess there's really not much left to say at this point in time, except that I know this all may come as a shock to many of you, and I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but it's for the best. I believe that with a car, we'll be able to see more things and meet more people and spend more time with them since we will no longer be weighed down by the pressures (both physically and timely) of walking. As we've said all along, it's really about the experiences and the stories we gather; how we get there is of little importance.

We will keep our blog open for some time I should think, and hopefully the others will get a chance to post on where they are and what they're doing and how they're feeling soon, so you can hear it from them and not me. And much as I appreciate your sympathies, please don't feel bad or sorry for us at all or tell us how much you wish we could keep going. I really believe that everything is turning out just as it should, even though it may not be turning out as we may have wanted it to. But as the saying goes, when God closes a door he opens a window, and all we have left to do is find where that window is. Just for the record, I've been feeling a slight tug on my heart to head to the state of Washington next, so for those of you who would still like to know what to pray for, that could be a start.

Lauren and Jonathan, I hope you guys are safe and and recovering well, and that your search goes smoothly, and I want you to know that you are both missed. Thank you sincerely for the journey that we all made together; I know that it shall be one I will never forget.

Love to you all,
Matt