Drove across Pennsylvania, back home from Mom's (or home from home? or home to home? not sure which really fits...), and bawled like a child almost the whole way. We had a great time, don't get me wrong - chatting and playing with the pup and seeing my brother (two weekends in a row! so cool!) and chasing the cats around the house...the weather was drop-dead gorgeous and we had almost more champagne than we knew what to do with. Almost. Mom looks great, and I'm so proud of the way she's re-inventing/re-discovering herself in the wake of recent events. I know never wanted to do this, and is kinda going kicking-and-screaming, but she's a pretty awesome lady.
But when I left it felt like I was missing something... like I had a story that I hadn't told, or something that I was supposed to give Mom and forgot...this nagging sense that something wasn't right. and it wasn't until about 40 miles into the drive that I realized that it was Dad that I was waiting to talk to. That the visiting rituals and the stories that I wanted to share were things I thought he'd be interested in.
At least it's allergy season, and I can blame my puffy eyes on the ragweed when in polite company. Or when ordering yet another large diet Coke in the MacDonald's drive-through.
So, even though I ran yesterday morning, I went again today when I got home. I was feeling restless, and more than a little raw. It totally sucked - I cannot lie. It could've been the 3 chicken fries I ate for lunch (by the way? totally disgusting. srsly.), or the vats of diet coke I drank on the Turnpike, or the fact that Pennsylvania's rolling countryside totally kicked my a** yesterday. But I did it, and am back on schedule. Week 3? Finished. Next week starts week 4.