Journal Entry 5

Yesterday morning I woke abnormally alert. Mike and I are excited on travel days; eager to get the drive done in the morning, so we have time to explore our next destination before the sun sets. As soon as I see my honey’s phone light up the bedroom I ask, “Have you called the next camp to find out if we can come early?”. Mike rubs his hand over his face as he attempts to awaken. “No.” It’s Wednesday morning, and I’m anxious about being on the road for 3 hours. My bad habit of eating candy while riding started young and hasn’t slowed. Neither has my anxiety of not being able to control the cars around us. Three generations of women in my family have attempted to magically manipulate the road from the passenger seat. I’m now riding in the truck where the imaginary brake pedal is broken. I’m popping red hots in my mouth, barely chewing before my hand reaches my mouth again with more. Cars arrogantly cut in front of the truck pulling our heavy home, and I throw my hands behind my head like I’m swatting a bee and blow out an exhausted breath. I’m grateful Mike chuckles, as he is easily entertained by my flailing arms. It’s much more tolerable than being startled by me hollering out in fear. The furthest distance my eyes can see are mountains, and I’m unaware this is our destination. I decide to keep my head down and read as I’ve already gone through 2 bags of red hots.

Finishing another great book, I look ahead at the road before us. I expected the next place to still be flat land, void of color, but I’m pleasantly surprised when I see tall evergreens appearing. The road winds left and right as we drive up and into the mountains. Coming out of a tunnel, the view turns into the most breathtaking scene. Mountains in rows angle and arch across the sky, creating pictures I never want to forget. I snap several photos as the road curves and realize the pictures lack depth and are not anything like what’s before me. Putting the camera down, I look out over the cliffs and try to memorize the beauty of the land. We pull over to a lookout point, making the moment last longer, and I leave a rock for Daddy and Sheila. We drive through Alamogordo towards mountains that look different from all the others. The rocks along the top look like parts of the colosseum in Rome; chiseled with dimension. Mike points to the mountain in front of us.

“See those little white dots at the bottom?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s where we’re camping.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park is like nothing I’ve seen, not even in pictures. Various shades of green with tan and orange in the background. In front of our campsite the mountain shoots straight up to the sky. The land surrounding us is a vast plain of beauty. RVs are scattered spaciously around. As evening approaches, I request a campfire. Mike calls a guy asking for two bundles of wood and it’s delivered within 15 minutes to our camp. With the fire flickering at my side, I relax in my hammock watching a dust devil dance across the plain. Darkness closes in around our little fire, and the full moon shines brightly over our world. Mike is poking at the logs when I break the silence.

“What was your favorite part of the day?”

“Seeing your face when you looked at the mountain.” He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “This whole trip…hearing your cackling laughter on the bike trail, seeing your face when you saw the Ichetucknee Springs the first time. My favorite part of this whole trip is watching you.” Tears pool in my eyes. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Happiness is not always an easy choice; but on this day, this moment, it would be extremely difficult to find even one complaint.

Lying in the dark of our bedroom again, waiting for sleep to arrive, I begin to dream of what magic Mike has waiting next.