We played on the side of the road. We changed diapers in the grass, shared our lunch with the ants. We slept in hotel rooms with Cheerios littering the floor. We fell in love with Arizona clouds. We went swimming. We drove through rain and 109 degree heat. We made fart noises as the sun set in West Texas. We went to the nursing home and saw ourselves in 50 years.
It made us want to live.
We returned home caked in dirt and other offerings from the road. I am cleansed. Empty of expectation and dream. Stripped to my most basic of selves. There is much work to be done – unpacking, cleaning, laundry, detoxing, grieving – but there is tomorrow.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.