Lost Weekend
Somehow we managed to travel more than 1,200 miles, hit almost every “big box store” in the Woodland-Davis-West Sacramento area and construct a bedroom’s worth of furniture in between. We got lost more than once. We were forced to find a different motel but still kept the Bakers-Square-on-a-Sunday-morning-whenever-we-visit tradition going. Yet I return to San Diego with less than 5 miles recorded on my computerized pedometer. Where did the time go?
On the way home, we witnessed the immediate aftermath of a horrific car crash along a remote section of I-5. I couldn’t tell if the dust storm we went through was the result or cause of the collisions that no doubt included fatalities. The scene bothers me even now, almost a day later. One minute you’re headed to some place promising and the next your soul is sent somewhere else. There’s no chance to tell someone you’re sorry or you love them or even good-bye.
Fortunately I got to tell my two college kids all three, this time without crying.
On the way home, we witnessed the immediate aftermath of a horrific car crash along a remote section of I-5. I couldn’t tell if the dust storm we went through was the result or cause of the collisions that no doubt included fatalities. The scene bothers me even now, almost a day later. One minute you’re headed to some place promising and the next your soul is sent somewhere else. There’s no chance to tell someone you’re sorry or you love them or even good-bye.
Fortunately I got to tell my two college kids all three, this time without crying.
