Unpacked

Five States, Three Days, Two Bags

I spent last week living out of a suitcase. Traveled through Nebraska, Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin and finally landed in Colorado. I spent the week sleeping in beds somebody else made, rooms with small coffe-pots and lobbies filled with continental breakfast fixins of one sort or another. 


N accompanied me on the first leg of the trip. We finished three books, started a fourth. We sang loudly, like rockstars, in the car. She swam, played viola and ukulele (not at the same time) while I was working in the Twin Cities. We got hair cuts, rode roller coasters, and visited M in the north woods of Wisconsin. We stayed up late with a giggling fit and a plate of nachos at M's kitchen table.

The final leg of the trip was a whim I had, at the last possible minute, to run the Bolder Boulder. N begged off and stayed with her grandparents in Lincoln. I traveled west, with the sun. Set up coffee dates, rode bikes, hiked the flat irons, lounged around park benches with my book, and finally ran a 10K race with 55,000 other people on Monday. 


I was glad to throw the front door of my own house open late Monday night. I love that clattering noise the weight, the wheels of my luggage makes against the hardwood floor. Walking across the threshold feeling spent, and a little road weary. The buzz of caffeine or adrenaline from new places mixed with a wave of comfort and familiarity of being home. It's like putting on my favorite slippers after wearing something snazzy and exciting. The sight of my own bed was enough to make me squeal with joy.