Kvetching About Journeys

What a long day in the car!

We did our final pack early in the morning on Sunday, and were on the road by 8:15am. With rest stops, food breaks, and gas, we ended up taking 14 hours to arrive, getting in at 9:45pm last night.

I had Amelia and Nezzie in my car. Leah had Herschel, our Great Dane, and Roxy, our cat, in her car.

We drove I-81 from Harrisburg to Scranton, took I-84 over from Scranton to where it joins finally with I-90 on the Massachusetts turnpike, I-495 from there to I-95 near the NH border, and then all the way across Maine to Ba
ngor.

The highlights were driving over the Pennsylvania mountains and coal country, the Hudson River in New York, through Connecticut, and over the river into Maine. We had wonderful blue skies for the drive. The kids were awesome.

And when we pulled into the HoJo in Bangor last night, I realized, as I’m sure Leah did as well, that this was it. There’s no return trip. From now on, our self-reliance is amplified by 10. There’s no safety net with family or friends. We’re building that all ourselves now.

I hate the way the word “journey” is used these days. Losing weight on a reality TV show is a “journey.” Anything superficial yet supposedly emotionally transformative is a “journey.” Yesterday, for us, that was a journey. We picked up and resettled elsewhere. That, not TV fat camp, is a journey.