Roadtrip

Today I took a road trip. I look forward to the eight hours in the car.  It's calming. No one needs me. No time deadlines.  No pressure to make decisions. What I like most about being in the car for eight hours is the stuff I don't have to do. I don't have to clean the kitchen or do the laundry. I can't clean the bathroom or sweep the floors. The shoes on the floor and the junk mail on the table are out of sight and out of mind. In the passenger seat, with the AC chilling my skin, my feet propped up on the dash, my arms cuddling my pillows I just sit. If I doze off, I doze off. If I am awake, I am awake. If  I want to stop, I give husband -dear a certain look and he finds a fun gas station.

With the carefree-ness that once belonged only to childhood, I sing along with the 80's station or get lost in a kindle audio book. The van, a vestige of prior family ways, is devoid of other passengers so I get to choose the contents of the ice chest in the back and eat all the snacks myself.  I am the only person husband-dear is concerned about keeping happy and I love it.