Going Home

We’re home and still shaking off the effects of two delightful 12 hour days in the car, preceded by the treat of being on the road by 4:30 the first day and 3:30 the second. (Insert emoji of Edvard Munch’s The Scream here.)

Into the second hour, while rolling out of Selma, North Carolina before the truckers had even had a chance to climb into their cabs, I decided it was a shame life wasn’t like the game of Chutes and Ladders. For getting up that early we should have been able to advance at least ten spaces, hopping over the rest of the state and landing at the Virginia border.

Driving that early in the morning is creepy. There’s no need to adjust your rear-view mirror because there’s nothing there. Down there in the dark on Route 95 it’s just you and the trees, you and the trees. The only light you get is the occasional blinding oncoming car over across the wide, black median, from the driver who’s decided to leave his high beams on, to hell with the everyone else.

Into the second hour of my shift, alone on the highway at 80 miles an hour, suddenly a deer popped into view. In the middle of the road. Just standing there looking at me. She stood there and I zigged, and she and I were both able to continue our morning without incident. But for the rest of the hour my speedometer dipped down and my attention level ratcheted up - about 35 notches.

Still, one big benefit to going so early in the morning was that we arrived home when it was still light out. We unloaded the car and turned on the water heater, but we had one more hurdle to jump.

Mamie is an excellent, excellent traveler. She sleeps in her bed the whole way, getting up only when the car stops for everyone to have a bathroom break. It’s the arrival that she hasn’t quite mastered.

Just like when we pulled into the Florida condo in October, she didn’t want to leave the car. Both there and here, I got her into the house where she followed me around closer than that pull-toy beagle I’d had when I was three.

Then the minute I opened the house door, she was off to the car like a shot because that was what she’d known for the past two days, that was home.

          She’s fine, now, though, in case you’re worrying. Once we collapsed in front of the TV Sunday night for some quality couch time, she joined us as though we’d never left home.