Day Thirteen & Day Fourteen: An odd detour

The morning of Day Thirteen felt a lot better than the evening of Day Twelve. By now you've read on Mike's blog about the end of our Chicago night. In case you haven't, I'll give you the quick story. We hiked back to our car in the Millennium Park garage after an cold, windy, and ultimately odd day in Chicago. We hoped to get another chance at it someday. We got into our car and Mike saw he'd missed a call from his mom. When we left the parking garage I checked the message. Mike's grandma had passed away that afternoon and we were 2,000 miles from home. Not knowing what else to do, we got on the freeway and continued driving east, stopping finally in the town of Portage, Indiana, where the Comfort Inn had a chandelier and, more importantly, an available king bed. So we dragged ourselves up the stairs and, feeling every mile and every hour of driving we had between us and family, tried to figure out what was next.

Our original thought, of course, was to catch a few hours of sleep and get in the car, driving west and south until we were home. It was just too much. We'd been on the road for almost two weeks and there was no way we could keep driving as if nothing had happened. So that was it. We were going home. We went to sleep exhausted on every level, more drained than a 12 hour drive could have made us.

But, like I said, a full night's sleep and the morning sun of Day Thirteen made all the difference. We choked down some continental breakfast and got in the car, heading south: south to St. Louis. Mike's amazing aunt was going to put us up for the night and watch our car for a week, and Mike's amazing mom was flying us home. I'm not one for cheesy imagery, but as we drove the landscape began to change and suddenly we were surrounded by a brilliant, verdant green. The winter had broken here, and the rain and snow had blessed the land with spring.

It was beyond great to see Mike's aunt, whose Nashville residence had been the endpoint of our first road trip together. Now she lives in St. Louis, and she provided us with a delicious dinner, a comfortable bed, a heartening breakfast, a trip to the airport, and our first familiar face since we'd left San Francisco. And she was a safe haven for us to transition back to the world we'd left behind.

Day Fourteen was filled with travel, and a last-minute flight reservation (on something other than American) meant three lay-overs before we got to the Long Beach airport. It wasn't a very interesting time, except for a few amusing eavesdrops and some good reading. Mike's mom picked us up and took us home, where we were shocked by the carpet of our apartment, the feel of our couches, and the sight of our very own fishies. I slipped on a tank top and we walked to Chipotle, reveling in the warmth of the Long Beach night. I kept breaking into sprints, unable to contain the energy: we were walking confidently to a place we'd been before. I was wearing sandals, I was bare-shouldered, and we would be getting ice cream on the way back. It was so ordinary, and so absolutely insane.

We tried to watch TV but we both fell asleep on the couches, the two-hour time shock, the 10 hours of traveling, and the confusion of being home for a week halfway through a five week road trip catching up to us. We stumbled to our very own bed and fell asleep immediately. Tomorrow, we'd have to buy milk. Tonight, we just had to sleep.

Listened to: The Cool (Lupe Fiasco), On the Road, and the sweet sounds of National Treasure 2 in-flight from Cinci to Salt Lake.

Mystery words: "Awkward Diaper Change"

Mike tells all: astoriedyear.blogspot.com