It took 12 hours to get here. 14 if you count the hours before sunrise Mike spent straightening the house and getting things in order so the housesitter doesn’t have to deal with our dirty dishes and kid clutter.
The “Can we see California yet?” and “I’m hunnnngryyyy!” and “She’s copying me!” were in full swing before we were even out of the Portland metro area. I learned that whining before the sun has even made a sliver of light on the horizon is especially hard to bear.
The car, nothing more than a vessel to hold the explosion of play silks and stuffed animals, crayons and books, cheddar bunnies and school bake sale cookies, coffee cups and knitting projects. Upon our arrival Diane says “I do like having a clean car.” I do too but clean car and happy kids, entertained on a 12 hour road trip or 5 minute drive to school just doesn’t happen in my world. Now that I’m on this trajectory I wonder if my car will ever be tidy again but it really doesn’t matter. Not when there is adventure to be had.
This is worth it. The sweet 2 year old (she turned 2 last week! 2!) uttering “gampa Jeff” for the first time and clinging to grandma as if she were the best thing ever. And she’s right, of course. I’m thankful my kids have such awesome grandparents.
My girls soaking in the landscape and people that made up Mike’s and my childhoods.
Sairshe was unimpressed with the view, choosing to give her attention instead to the small details around her.
Being reminded again that distance is not the dominating factor in relationships. Thankful that despite being separated by 12 hours of highway my kids love their grandparents like no one else.
It’s not enough and fully, abundantly enough at the same time.
Happy Thanksgiving week.