The Road Away from Home

I had hopped on the car slipping away from home a number of times before. But never like this. After two months of observing social distance at home, we had clear aims: drive as far as possible in one day, limit the use of restroom, and if lucky, find a picnic spot where we could eat our food packed from home.

Games rolled inside the car as we entered Wisconsin. Children drooled when we crossed Wisconsin Dells water parks. When we stopped for gas, we didn’t touch a single surface to and from the restroom seeking refuge in our face masks. The gas station sold hand sanitizers. We stocked up. That mental presence compelled a carefree person like me to be pragmatic during this lengthy drive. Like I said never had I left my home like this.

And when we hit the Mississippi river, we found ourselves a secluded bench on Goose Island over a real picnic. The sun burned against my cheeks, the moisture clung to my hair, the birds swooped and craned, and we sat counting the waves lapping against its shores.

The Great River Road was constructed to fill travel scrapbooks. But the highlight of our long excursion in our car was driving along a train between us and the river.

This drive was needed. But when we entered our home (having sat the longest possible on our butts inside a car), we contained happy hearts and tired bodies. And what better hotel to sleep in than your own home and bed.

Here’s to being mindfully safe in our changed world.

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