We left home Friday morning.
We were about an hour and a half behind schedule, which, honestly, was pretty darn good. Sharaun, in true Sharaun form, propped her phone up on the roots of the tree in the yard and had the family pose in the RV doorframe for an auto-timed picture. I’m glad she did because it came out fantastic and it’ll be an awesome memory.
In the RV, I cranked the engine and paired my phone with the stereo to get some music going. Radiohead’s Last Flowers was on. It’s a little piano-driven number which, at times, sounds quite sad. Oh man, I cried. I just sat there, askew in the driver’s seat, engine running, and cried. Sharaun cried. We laughed at the luck of getting such a dirge as our shuffled-up departure track. Crying was important, though, so I saw the Lord’s hand in it all once again.
We swung by Mom’s house to say one last goodbye. More quick hugs, a bit more tears. Then Costco for gas and a lunch stop for burgers before we hit the road.
And then we were gone.
A Labor Day weekend trip with friends began our journey and marked the last few days of summer for the kids. Tomorrow, Tuesday, we start school. We’re camped at Patrick’s Point State Park on the Northern California coast. I anticipate we’ll stay here a couple nights at least, long enough to hopefully feel-out how the day’s routine is going to go. Although, I’m likely fooling myself… as I suspect we won’t really lock into that routine for quite a while.
There were moments today, on the road, where I felt waves of wonder. Big sweeping landscapes unfolding below and beside us, tacky roadside tourist traps, a laugh shared with a child. There were also moments where I felt waves of anxiety. Why does the house battery gauge show only a third left when we were plugged in all night? Is this pull-out level enough to boil the water I need for my instant noodle lunch? The bike rack is totally going to bottom-out right now…
Until tomorrow then. Goodnight.