I drove the first leg of the trip home while my kids got some more sleep. I'd had very little sleep myself, and as the dark countryside rolled by and I reflected on the weekend I started forming some prose in my head.
When we stopped eventually and Jack took over driving for a bit, I needed to get the words out so I typed them into a facebook status to remember.
The road took me home because her laughter mixed with mine is the best wellness elixir there is. Because he went north and I went south and it's been twenty one years since we were both pulled home at once. Because there's comfort in so many old friends and familiar faces. Because this son is about to leave the nest and inspires me to return to mine, and because that son had never played in the creek who's stream had watered his mother, soaking through the roots of my bare feet as i grew into a woman and left this place, and because it settles my soul to see it all still there, and reassured, I now leave it behind and take the road back to the blessed life I've built elsewhere until the grapevines of my girlhood twist around me, tug at my heart, and pull me back again.
After three days of nonstop being on my feet, a day on my ass in the car caused my feet to swell up like a pregnant woman!
That's how you break in a new car! My grill is covered with bugs, thanks to the central California farmland. I'm planning another trip very soon, because I've realized how therapeutic these trips are for me. I tend to be very controlling, and always have a plan. Taking a trip in which I don't have much of a plan seems to allow me to give up control, I loosen up and when I do, I remember who I think I really am under all this anxiety, how I crave adventure and how I'm wild and free and I need periods of time in which I am not being tamed, in which I can roam free and come home relaxed and in more control of myself having given up my control of my surroundings and those around me.