Upon Driving Over the California/Oregon Border

It was a long drive. One that took us well over our estimation. We had left around 8 a.m. from San Diego and hoped to get into Grants Pass around 10 or 11 p.m. what with fueling up and eating and resting. But, yeah, no. It was just a bit past midnight when we drove over the border and we still had, at least, an hour to go. It was dark and scary (the hills were steep coming up and going down) and we had a U-Haul AND a trailer for our car. Lots of pounds to pull and huge tail wind happening. Amongst jokes and silence, I admitted my sense of relief that we were going "back home" even though we hadn't called Grants Pass that since 2001. Just seeing the silhouetts of the mountains as we desended into the Rogue Valley caused me to tear up. All that green and lushness! I couldn't wait for tomorrow morning so that I could see it all clearly! Dustin had asked several times during our trip if I still thought that we were doing the right thing. I had assured him that, yes, I did because I knew we both needed to hear that. Cut to our last few minutes of the trip, when reality set in, when I saw that we were going to be surrounded by family and friends that we hadn't seen in so many years and that we no longer lived in a big city with all of it's ammenities, I turned to him and said, "You know at some point, I'm going to wake up, realize what we've done, and blame you, right?" Silence. He said, "Yeah. And I am sorry about that." And then we pulled off the highway at our exit.