We pulled out this morning on our cross-country trip. After staying up until 2am packing up and out, the morning seemed to come too early. Even so, we hit the road later than we had hoped. We ended up making excellent time, reaching Flagstaff in time for leisurely snacks and drinks with the kids before supper. No swimming, though--it was only in the upper 50s outside. Brrr! (There's snow on that there mountain).
I am too tired and too in-the-midst to process our departure or our beginning-at-last of this new season. I will note that we left today on the anniversary of our leaving for Europe Semester last year; there's something poetic about that. There were two weepy Covingtons as we drove down the hill. We stopped at In-N-Out again for our final California meal.
We headed East down the same road that we used when we moved to Santa Barbara in the first place seven years ago; it had all of the displaced familiarity of watching a movie on rewind. Only this time we had four in the back seat instead of two.
And after we had been in Arizona for a while, perhaps the most foreign thing yet: a rainstorm. We drove into it, shutting off the movie as the kids shrieked, wondered, and counted raindrops on their windows.
So tired. And so grateful for a safe day filled with beauty both within the van and without. For hotel desk clerks who cheerfully guess the kids' ages. For strangers who are fellow SEC fans and chat football, which makes me feel a little more at home no matter where I am. For the smell of rain, and for clean bathrooms and cheerful children. And for a pillow.
Goodnight from Flagstaff, friends.
Oh, Holly, we love your drawing us into your world, your fam, the experience, the exhaustion, the anniversary, the tears. Thank you! And as we have day by day held you before the Father, we rejoice at all progress, and destinations. Much love!
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