Hours before dawn, we would pack up a few things, pack them into the trunk of the car, leave straightaway and drive through to California from where we were living in the Rocky Mountains. My sister Corinne would sleep across the back seat, and Lori would sleep on my Mom’s lap. In those days, seat belts were not the law of the land. We had not yet been taught to fear. I would have a bed made for me behind the front seat, making as comfortable as possible the place where the drive shaft protruded upward. My head would be down close to the road, and I would listen to the sound of the tires on the road, or I would peak my head up and watch the moon and wonder that the moon was following us without any seeming of turning aside from us.
One way that I might describe my father would be to say that he was a man who would stop, in the cool darkness or in the morning or under a desert sun, just to have a look around and smell the air. One way I might describe my mother would be to note her joy at having my young sister sleeping on her lap.
Oh great blessing of life, I thank you and thank you.