In case there’s any doubt about how much I loved meeting my daughter Erin for that overnighter in Eureka last month, we’re doing it again tomorrow. Michelle and I have adopted the “Thelma and Louise” title for our road trips. We’ve even done San Diego, which is a ways, but it doesn’t seem like it when you’re in good company and loving every minute of it.
I insist that she’s Thelma because she has more fun. I’m Louise because I’m older than she is and should be more responsible.
The truth of the matter is that nobody who hasn’t been through what I’ve been through (accomplished only by living long enough) can possible appreciate the little things in life like I do.
I wake up in paradise. I rejoice in having choices. I thank God for my body, my mind, my family, my work, my sight, my voice, my bed, my breathing in and out, the joy of a good stretch, the luxury of rolling over and going back to sleep if I choose to. There is not enough time to list all the things I’m grateful for–before I doze off again.
We’ve decided to take her tom-tom along tomorrow just because we can. She has three cars, but only mine is a convertible, and that’s what makes our travelling together so gol darned special. You can’t be Thelma and Louise in an SUV. Come on.
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