Last Wednesday, when I told Robyn that I might make it home in just three days, instead of the usual four or five, I knew accomplishing the feat meant extending each day’s drive by several additional hours. I wasn’t firmly convinced myself as I much prefer to do less daily driving, not more.
The first day out I ambitiously set Amarillo, Texas, as my goal. I also decided to take an overland route through New Mexico instead of staying on the interstate the entire distance, thereby saving sixty-six miles. I was rewarded by an unanticipated and lovely, lengthy, and leisurely drive through evergreen forests and mountains that are spread along U.S. Route 70, north of Las Cruces, that eventually leads to the town of Roswell, New Mexico of UFO alien fame. However, the mountain roads slowed my progress, so I found myself still more than two hours from Amarillo –firmly smack dab in the middle of nowhere– as darkness fell. Luckily, I came across accommodation in the tiny town of Portales, home to Eastern New Mexico University, where I spent a quiet evening with Lola the pup at a surprisingly comfortable Super 8 motel.
To my surprise, by this past Friday, we had made it home. Temperatures, which were in the sixties to start the last morning in Joplin, Missouri, dropped throughout the day as we proceeded north. That same morning, as we hit the road, I still had not made up my mind whether to make one more overnight stop before reaching home, however, the prospect of seeing Robyn one day sooner provided the necessary impetus to push through, notwithstanding a dismal local weather forecast that I managed to pick up on the car’s radio while still outside of St. Louis, Missouri.
Unfortunately, this time the often-unreliable weather forecasters seemed to have gotten things right. By midday, the sun had disappeared. It then began to rain, weak and spotty at first, then persistent and much harder. Toward early evening, as I was crossing the bridge that signals you have entered the immediately adjacent county to my own, the rain suddenly morphed into thick snow! According to my vehicle’s computer, the temperature was thirty-six degrees but falling.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Welcome home.
Indeed, the morning Lola and I departed from home for our Arizona winter quarters, the air temperature had been minus thirteen. Frigid air nipped at our heels throughout Missouri, Oklahoma, and a large swath of the Texas panhandle.
We made it as far as Amarillo, Texas near the New Mexico border before the temperatures moderated. However, by the time we had crossed over into Arizona, we were basking in sunny conditions and consistent, warm temperatures, befitting the best days in May where I hail from, and causing one of the more severe cold snaps I had experienced to recede from my memory, that is, until this very moment brought things full circle.
Naturally, I had managed to time my arrival home with the heart of a busy Friday rush hour. Amidst this combination of falling snow, slippery and wet road conditions, thousands of urgent brake lights, and the everlasting road construction, the final leg of my long journey, a trip that ordinarily takes about forty-five minutes, became a tense, two-hour slog under reduced visibility conditions and a race to beat the descending darkness.
Once I committed, my goal had been to make a beeline home. Instead, here I was forced to abandon what is euphemistically called an “expressway” for an improvised, local, and zigzag route through the heart of the City. I was anxious to complete my trip.
When, at long last, I limped into my garage and shut off the Subaru, I felt physically exhausted. I was mentally spent. I felt tense and more than a little bit irritated after having to negotiate roads filled with countless inept drivers. Now, on top of everything, despite being warned not to, Mont’s roommate had parked his car inside my garage. When I fetched him from his place to move it, so that I could unload, he tried to claim that Mont had told him that I would not be returning until the following day, which Mont denied. The guy seemed genuinely put out that I had the temerity to get home one day early. His display of attitude did nothing to improve my mood.
But then, as I unlocked the rear door and stepped into the kitchen, the first thing I noticed was Robyn. She was beaming. Robyn came over to greet me. We embraced while Lola the pup excitedly jumped around us.
My animus and ill will dissipate in a single moment, like a puff of smoke carried away in the wind. After two months gone, I had nearly forgotten that there is nothing quite so comforting as coming home to someone who loves you.