What about your life excites you? What makes you get up out of bed in the morning and stay motivated during your day? For some of us, it’s simple, like our morning cup of coffee, followed by an afternoon cup later on. For others, we are inspired by our work or our families.
I realized on my very first trip with Joseph that exhaustion does not quite hit the same way on the road as it does at home. Excited for every day and the new experiences it would bring, I could survive on limited sleep and caffeine for days. Back at home, I require a full eight hours and some activity requiring me to pull myself out of bed early, or I will sleep even longer.
Today, after two very full days and nights with little sleep, that exhaustion was beginning to rise, but we still rose with the sun, packed up our car, and drove to our first stop as if we were much better rested than we were. We started our day at Cataract Falls, a recreation area with the largest waterfall in Indiana. Technically, it’s two waterfalls that create one big waterfall – the upper falls has a fall of twenty feet, while the lower falls (half a mile downstream) has a plunge of eighteen feet. We started at the upper falls, where we held ourselves up on the railing to avoid stepping onto the flooded wooden platform. The sound of the rushing water was deafening. The falls glided over the rocks and plunged into the water below. Lush greenery surrounded the water and sparkled with water droplets.
We walked through the woods to the next set of falls, which flowed down into a river where children were splashing in the water. Despite having traveled and fallen so far, the water was surprisingly calm, and that peace seemed to emanate into us as we gazed at the gorgeous cascades.
Our next stop was Indianapolis, another surprisingly clean city. Our plan had been to go to the City Market, which was similar to yesterday’s West Side Market, though it seemed there were many more ready-to-eat food options available. However, we arrived a little too early and found most of the shops were not open yet. Stomachs grumbling, we decided to hunt for food elsewhere. After a quick search, we settled on a local brunch chain called Wild Eggs, which was only a half-mile walk away.
From the eclectic and bright, egg-themed decor to the variety of tasty menu options made with fresh and local ingredients, it was clear why this spot was so highly rated. Joseph and I sat at a booth and pointed and laughed to the many different paintings featuring eggs on top of mushrooms, arranged to look like flowers, inside avocados, and more.
For our meal, we ordered one of their special appetizers, breakfast popcorn, which was thick cut bacon drenched in syrup and served with a spicy dipping sauce. As someone who does not eat a lot of meat, it was not my favorite dish, but Joseph would have eaten the entire plate if I had not reminded him he still had his meal coming. Joseph ordered chicken and waffles, which were perfectly crispy and fluffy and tasted the perfect blend of sweet and salty with some syrup drizzled on top. I ordered the farmers market skillet, a blend of bell peppers, zucchini, yellow squash, wild mushrooms, broccoli, oven-roasted tomatoes, and home-fried potatoes, topped with melted cheddar cheese with two basted eggs like little suns sitting in clouds, all served in a white skillet serving dish. On the side, I received a homemade blueberry muffin that was so delicious, I couldn’t help but eat despite my stomach being close to bursting. To drink, Joseph ordered the chocolate kiss, a hot coffee spiked with coffee liqueur, Irish cream and creme de cocoa, topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream. There were a variety of mimosas also available – I chose the orange pineapple mimosa, which was a bright sweet and citrusy treat.
Stomachs groaning from the amount of food, we decided to walk around for a little while. We stopped for coffee at Starbucks, where we also purchased our first Been There series mug of the trip, and then perused the shops. We took note of the colorful streets adorned with flags of all colors of the rainbow, which I was surprised to see considering the conservative lean of the state. However, I learned later that Indianapolis is a dark blue section of the state surrounded by much more red. Therefore, pride flags were everywhere to see, and they were, well, proud of it. One of our favorite shops was Silver in the City, an unconventional gift store that sells jewelry, clothing, bags, books, and more. I am not sure if the store was just in Pride theme for June, or if it always has a similar collection, but Joseph and I both dragged each other around the store, smiling and laughing at the creative, funny and affirming items for sale.
Our stomachs now a bit more comfortable, we drove to Bluespring Caverns. The park does not take reservations for their boat tours, so we needed to arrive early enough that we would not miss our opportunity, and hopefully at a time where we would not be waiting too long for the next available tour. We pulled in just as the next tour was about to leave. We hurried inside, paid for our tour, and joined the group descending down the slippery sidewalk into the caverns below.
Even while we could still see sunlight, the air grew cold around us. I slipped into my jacket and stepped carefully down the steep decline to where boats were tied to a pier built beneath the ground. We sat on the benches in the boat, and our tour guide sat at the back to guide us through the caverns in the longest navigable underground river in the United States.
The caverns grew dim and quiet. The motor of the boat was so soft, we could still hear the occasional drip of water or scuttle of a cave fish below. The walls were slick and glinted in the boat’s light, although we were told not to touch them. The oils on our hands would immediately cease the growth of these formations. We floated through, gazing in wonder at the limestone formations. We learned on our tour that Indiana is known for its minerals, particularly limestone, which has been used in the capital in DC and the Taj Mahal in India. For this reason, anyone who owns land above ground also owns anything underneath their property.
As we reached a larger room where our boat could rest, our tour guide gave us the unique opportunity to experience the complete removal of our senses. First, we were given the opportunity to experience total silence – everyone was instructed to be quiet. Immediately, the caverns fell silent around us. There was not a single sound – not a drop of water, not an animal scuttling along the walls, not even my own heartbeat. For the first time in my life, I truly understood the phrase, “silence is deafening.” Faced with such a complete lack of noise, my ears strained hard to hear anything, and they seemed to create almost a faint ringing in my head, reminiscent of the way it sounds after a loud concert.
After this, we were plunged in total darkness. Our tour guide instructed us to put away all phones and cameras and turned off the lights of the boat. Darkness more complete than I had ever experienced encased us. It felt thick and suffocating. I could not even see my own hand in front of my face. I had thought before, on dark nights, I knew what darkness was, but this, underneath the ground and away from all forms of natural and artificial light, was like something out of a nightmare.
With the lights back on, our tour guide gave us one last experience of cave thunder. She took a seat cushion in her hands and, after instructing us all to remain silent, banged it against the benches. The resounding echoes through the caverns ricocheted off the walls, creating a sound reminiscent of thunder slowly rolling across the landscape. I smiled at the sound, remembering humid summer nights with lightning streaking across the sky and rain throwing itself against my windows as I sat curled with a book, watching the storm.
Joseph and I left the tour, both marveling at the unique experience – it had truly been unlike anything we had ever done before. Our travels often take us to places high in the sky, but never had we traveled so far below the ground.
Our next stop was Santa Claus, IN. Despite the time change working in our favor, we still arrived at the town much later than we had hoped. After checking the clock, we realized most of the town’s attractions were closing in just five minutes.
Joseph, who knows just how much I love Christmas and was looking forward to visiting, did not want us to miss our opportunity. He pulled the car onto the road fast and sped to the Santa Claus Museum, just two minutes before it closed. We found the door to the museum already locked, but lights were still on inside. I gave a tentative knock, hating myself for doing so – I remembered all too well my days in customer service, and the feeling of closing up shop when no customers were in the store, only to have someone arrive a few minutes before I was able to leave.
The door opened, and we found two women inside.
“We know you’re about to close, but can we just have a quick look around?” Joseph asked. The woman behind the desk smiled at us and gestured for us to come in.
“I’ve got this,” she said to the woman at the door. “You can go home.” She turned on the lights for us and asked if we had ever been here before. When we said we hadn’t, she explained the layout of the museum to us – where we could learn more about the history of the town, read letters written to Santa Claus all the way back to the early 1900s, the gift shop, the model train room, and Santa’s office. She seemed disappointed we would not have the entire experience, and after a while, she ended up turning on Christmas lights and music for us to enjoy while we perused.
“Take your time,” she repeated to us multiple times. “Enjoy it.” As I gleefully skipped to another room with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning, I heard Joseph tell the woman just how much I love the holiday and how special this was.
We read about the history of the town – originally called Santa Fee, the town applied for a post office in the 1850s. Its application was rejected because there was another town called Santa Fe in Indiana. According to legend, it was Christmas Eve, and the town was gathered to discuss new possible names. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew open the doors to the church, and sound of sleigh bells drifted inside. The children ran to the door shouting, “Santa Claus!” And thus, the name of the town was decided.
For over a hundred years, letters have poured into Santa Claus, IN from children with their Christmas wishes. Every December, letters have been written back, by the volunteer “elves” or even the ultimate postmaster, Santa Claus himself.
We read through the letters, which brought us both to laughter and tears at the childhood love and innocence captured inside. It was neat to compare the wishes of children in the early 20th century to now, and surprisingly, they did not seem all that different. We watched the train circle the track and turned the globe on Santa’s desk. When we were finished, the woman handed us a set of keys and gave us the opportunity to go into the historic church and post office, where we would have the opportunity to write a letters of our own.
The church was as it was years ago, with a partition as soon as you walked in to separate men and women. At the front, an almost life-size nativity sat. I sat down in a wooden pew and was reminded vividly of a field trip when I was in elementary school to a one-room schoolhouse. This place was just as old and filled with memories.
We met our guide at the post office, where we were given papers and pencils to write our letters. We sat in desks designed for much smaller people and, after a moment of thinking, began to write.
We thanked our host profusely before we left – she had given us almost an hour of her time, when she should have been home by now. She informed us this was her job after retirement, and she does it simply because she loves it so much. It had been a truly heartwarming experience for us, and multiple times I was brought to tears by just how grateful I was that we had not missed it.
We stopped by the store for some more wine and charcuterie (we had not had our fill the night before), and drove to our campsite. There, we started a fire and sat beside a lake as we ate and watched the sky slowly dim from blue to pink to indigo.
Christmas means quite a lot to me. There was a period in my life when every day, the first thing I did when I woke up was check how many days there were left until the holiday. Until this day, I still start planning my gifts in July. Joseph and I do activities all December long to celebrate advent, and we most likely will be celebrating Christmas in July as well. The thing that got me up in the morning, for many years, was just that one special day.
It seems silly, but for me, Christmas was something to look forward to when there was not much else in my life to be excited about. I had a very long hospital stay in the month of December when I was in high school, and I got out just in time for Christmas. Still frail and very dejected, I remember, in the middle of Christmas baking at home alone, climbing onto the counter to be closer to the radio so I could listen to Christmas song playing as tears streamed down my face. It felt like Christmas had almost been stolen from me, and I vowed to never let that happen again. As my health worsened, I looked forward all year to the holiday season, which was so filled with love and joy that it spilled light into what was the darkest time in my life.
I am grateful now to have so much more worth waking up for. I do not remember when I stopped checking the Christmas countdown daily – it probably faded to every couple days, to once a month, to now the occasional check every couple months and the stir of excitement I still feel when I see the numbers tick down. And as my need for Christmas cheer year-round faded, I filled that space with joy from other areas of my life – strong friendships, sharing my writing, my career, my ever-improving health, my adoring husband, traveling the country, my sweet puppy.
Christmas may seem to be an odd thing to motivate someone, but for me, it quite literally saved my life in a lot of ways. And when I think about it, it does not seem to me to be such an awful thing to rely on. It is dependable – it comes every year, whether we want it to or not. It is filled with family gatherings, normally whether we want that or not, too. And no matter what, it has a crisp air filled with hope, a joy that warms even the frostiest hearts, and a love that surpasses understanding. For me, as I have found hope elsewhere in my life, I have tried to carry those values with me, so maybe I can bring a little of that spirit anywhere I go. After all, I think we all could use a little more joy, love and hope.
No matter what it is that excites you to wake up in the morning, the glimmers you find throughout your day, the hope that keeps you alive, embrace it. Others may find it strange to find an adult running through Santa Claus, IN with more excitement than any child visiting, or, as I have encountered more often in my life, people unfortunately often chastise others for talking too much about their passions, for being “obsessed” with the things they love. There is nothing wrong with enjoying this life, with noticing the little things others take for granted, for being excited about something that brings you joy. Embrace your glimmers and hold them tight to your heart.
And if you want to share them with someone, I’m always here with a cup of coffee and an eager ear. More than anything else, my biggest glimmer has become listening to others speak about what they are passionate about, even if it holds no interest to me. I love seeing that light brighten in someone’s eyes, to listen to their voice pick up speed and pitch and watch as their hands start move enthusiastically as they speak. I love just being human with someone. It gives me hope to listen to other people’s stories and to encourage their passions.
Thank you for listening to and encouraging mine.
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