Gummy Sour Worms

And the taste of nostalgia

Over the past sixteen months, I have made what, in retrospect, feels like innumerable trips between North Carolina and New Mexico.

I know that the trips were not, in fact, innumerable, and if I had taken just half a minute every time I had set out in one direction or the other to write an entry in a notebook that read something like this:

July 3, 2018: Depart Albuquerque for Pittsburgh by plane

July 15, 2018: Depart Morrisville, NC for Albuquerque by plane

I would have a reference for where I had been, what I had done, how I had gotten there, and how and when I left.

But I didn’t do that, so in my mind, I have made so many trips, they can’t be counted. Instead they have blurred into one large trip that may never end, but for now, at least, has paused.

While I made most of the trips alone (either flying or driving), I did make three road trips with my youngest son, and by the time we set out on our last jaunt from Albuquerque, New Mexico, to Durham, North Carolina, we had our act together: I would do the driving, and he would curate the music.