Sleeping on a cot in a sunroom in Maine, surrounded by windows and hearing the rain bounce off the tin roof.

Riding quick on my Brompton to my cheap hotel room in Savannah, GA, to beat the rain, which would come down so hard that it’d knock out the power.

The rain in Louisville, KY, that I’d hear against the roof of the house because I was in the attic.

I’m sleeping in a basement now, with almost no exposure to the outside world. I hear nothing. See no sunlight. It’s been raining all day, and yet I haven’t felt a drop or heard it much.

The rain is there, even if I don’t hear it.

The people I stay with during my travels have their own lives, filled with jobs and errands and routines. Most mornings I wake up and find the whole house to myself.

Some mornings I wake up and hear people. Then fear sets in.

“Wait,” I’ll say to myself. “I thought my friends were at work?”

That’s when my mind, half-asleep, starts to race.

What if those sounds I’m hearing is a home invasion?
What if someone is robbing the place?

Again, I’m half-asleep when I make up these scenarios. Of course nothing is really happening.

So yea – that’s how I sometimes start my days; tense, breathless, and wondering if I’m going to have to call 911.

In a recent two day stretch I spent 14 hours on a Greyhound bus. The first leg was from Cincinnati, OH to Pittsburgh, PA. Then the next day, another bus from Pittsburgh, PA to Philadelphia, PA. In the past year and a half, I’ve taken buses from Youngstown, OH to Austin, TX, and plenty of stops in between. MORE →