Forever ago, I remember Washington state and the pouring rain, the heaviest still of the trip thus far. It’s where I discovered the roof leak at the front passenger side of the cab, the leak I fixed long ago in what feels like another, different adventure.
We walked on the beach, out along a natural strand of sandstone jetty, picking through tidepools. We ate dinner out less, cooked mostly in the RV, something we’ve agreed we want to go back to… as it feels better.
We got cheap gas at a casino on the border and got better at the setup and teardown with each successive night. We walked miles of gorgeous bike trails because Cohen wasn’t as proficient as he is today. Today he could ride.
School for the kids felt more formal, we planned further in advance and they were more respectful and offered less protest. I’d like to get back to this, too. School has become difficult and a bit dreadful, we can do better.
That rainy day we walked through the lava tubes, underground and safe from the rain. I can remember it clearly but it really does feel like another time. I like that, that the trip’s appreciable enough to have memories that feel an age ago.
And now, in my brain that loves to segment things, we’re starting the next phase. Exploring far South into Florida, coming back up north and east, and then switch-backing our way through the middle of the country, ratcheting north by latitudes as the weather permits.
Soon I’ll remember this Christmas part of the trip through gauze like the rainy day in the lava tubes in Washington, and the lava tubes will be another epoch obscured.
And so on and so on until forever as far as I’m concerned.
Goodnight, love ya.