Well, it’s the last night of our vacation. I’m in a hotel room but my brain feels like it’s still on the interstate, chewing up mile after mile of asphalt. Since Saturday morning, I exited Nevada, and crossed Arizona, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, and half of Kentucky. Tomorrow is the rest of Kentucky, a portion of West Virginia, Virginia, and back to North Carolina.
Somewhere today I passed 5,000 miles on the trip meter and I think I can feel every one of them in my neck and shoulders but I’m not complaining because it has been a great trip. The kids are still in one piece and as long as I’ve kept them in Redbox movies and a daily fix of french fries, they’ve been happy.
I’ve come across a thousand places I want to live: a farmhouse in rural Indiana, a ranch in southern Utah, on a mountaintop in Colorado, and on the plains of Kansas. Each place I’ve come through has its own beauty and majesty and calls to a part of my heart that will forever want to wander and explore all that this world has to offer.
But one place calls me louder.
I miss my husband.
I miss my cat.
Until he brings in something dead.
I miss my pillow.
Next time I’m traveling with it.
I miss my kitchen.
And food that doesn’t come in a paper bag.
I think I’m ready to be off the road for a little while so I can process the stories and events of the last three weeks. The word that keeps coming back to me is “unexpected”. So much of what I saw was not as I had imagined it would be; it was fascinating to get a real sense of place and culture.
I can’t wait to share my pictures and stories but, more importantly, I can’t wait to get home.
Have a nice day.