I woke up in a dark hotel room, unfamiliar with my surroundings, somewhat disquieted. It was a second before I realized where I was and what I was doing. And then it hit me: I did it. I left my home behind, intent on starting a new life. I ran away. I’m on the road. Holy balls. 

Trix was curled up next to me purring loudly, and as I began to pet her, she stretched her neck out, reminding me of her sweet spot, and we shared an early morning oxytocin kick. The Tortie in her made a show soon enough, and she squirmed away within a minute, off to rule the cheap room we were settled into. She left me with my thoughts, not always the safest bet. 

I’d been talking about this trip long enough that I actually wondered if I’d really follow through. I mean, deciding and doing? Two entirely different things. 

Taking an extended hippy trip doesn’t surprise anyone who knows me well – I’ve been talking about it for years, attaching one creative idea or another to the journey. So when I began tossing around the concept of leaving Portland and my job entirely without knowing where I wanted to go, a road trip seemed the obvious thing to do. And since I have no clue really where I’m going or what I’m doing? Writing about seems the obvious thing to do – for therapy’s sake, at the very least.

And I’m here, on the road, doing! 

So, today the girl and I are hopping in our car to wherever. While our ultimate goal is – woohoo! – San Diego for a few months, we are running slowly down the coast the next several days. What’s the rush? 

Yesterday was an emotional drive. I spent a couple of hours listening to a playlist created by my sister Emily after our Mother died. The playlist was titled Grieving and Healing, and nearly eighteen years later, I’m still doing both. But I found being in an emotional state like that to amplify the things around me. The river running next to me was flowing fast, and seemed to keep pace with my car, as though it were traveling with me until it would split away from the road ahead. The sky was bright blue, spotted with a few fat cumulus clouds, and giving the sun space to stretch out and show off her long rays. And the vibrance of the green moss clinging to the trees along the highway was almost ethereal. 

It’s funny the things you see when you aren’t really looking. And even better the things you see when you are. 

So off I go, with eyes wide open, hittin’ the road with my kitty and a big, stupid smile on my face. Aristotle wisely said that happiness depends on ourselves. And so? Here I go, depending on myself. And so far I’m doing alright at the job.