Long Road Trip or Practicing Thanks
If you have five minutes, we double dog dare you to spend it writing here
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.
OK, are you ready? The Gypsy Mama Facebook late night crew is my new muse come 10pm Thursday night, so please give me your best five minutes on : Perspective
Mom called on Sunday. It must be bad. She doesn’t ask me to drive 14 hours just because she wants to see me. Grandma was in the hospital with pneumonia.
So the question of the girls began. Should I take them? My grandma hadn’t seen them in over a year. It would lift her spirits. But how long would I be gone? School still had over a month left. Dear hubby had a week without classes between winter and spring semesters. Leave them. Too much about this trip was unknown.
Driving the fourteen hours alone was scary. I never go anywhere alone. Not in three years. And never for more than a weekend. My youngest, she cried and cried she wanted to go. And we-just-don’t-know-what-to-expect isn’t a reason to a child. And driving through Chicago, in the rain, my fingers were tight from gripping the wheel. I was lonely. Maybe I had made a mistake.
A dear friend called near Rockford. To make sure I was awake. Doing okay. To offer support. I tell her I wish I had brought at least one one kid. She, who has more kids, and a toddler still at home says, I would pay a million dollars to drive for fourteen hours alone. And everything changed. The daily practice of thanksgiving I was learning turned back on and the whole trip changed.