When I first came back to San Diego after that last mental hospital stay and integration, I was so frustrated to be so far away from them. They were 2 and a half hours away from me! That’s 150 minutes of driving from one house to the other where I willed the traffic to go faster and hated every car in my way.
But, I saw them every other weekend for 2 days straight. It was 6 hours round trip from door to door and it was hours and hours of glorious time spent squished together in my car that was too small for five people with the windows rolled down since we had no air conditioning. We talked. We screamed at the top of our lungs for the count of five to relieve the angst and listened to the radio at eleven. Even the tape deck barely worked in that car.
I miss those days.
Isn’t that the way it goes? Sometimes hard times are the best… especially when spent with people you love.