I was traveling the past few days. I didn't have access to computer or newspaper, I was clueless, so consequently this post is entirely personal.
For the past decade I've burnt rubber between NorCal and SoCal (well, Ventura/Santa Barbara - those who are from there don't consider themselves SoCal, but for the sake of argument let's concede that most people do) on a regular basis.
This time it was to Central Cal (I'm not talking The Big Valley, but the area around the City of El Paso de Robles, i.e., Paso Robles) to say goodbye to my sister and her family (who are moving across the country to Florida). To help pack and say goodbye.
I will now have one sibling on the East Coast and the other in Hawaii, and so it goes for nieces and nephews and brothers-in-law. I know it's the modern American family dynamic, but I still think it sucks. I like to see people I love and enjoy more than once or twice a year.
So I had that to deal with, not to mention that the area my sister is moving from is where my father lived after his retirement. After we said our goodbyes I took myself for a spin, drove past my dad's old house, had a look at the lake and then headed out.
I became aware once I leave here I'll probably never see this again. This place that has been such a part of my life for seventeen years will be gone. There will be no reason for me to ever come back, I doubt if I'll ever take this road again.
There will be new roads to travel, it's always exciting to crest a new horizon. But having the vivid memories of my children on the road to Grandpa's travel out with me was just a bit too melancholy.