Summer Roadtrip 2012 — Part 1

Over the summer, Kris and I ventured from California to Indiana in his loaded-down 2004 Chevy Aveo. We had spent the summer together in California, wasting hours on my apartment patio, writing, debating, drinking, loving. I don’t have many positive things to say about Fresno, but the summer nights are something of a rarity. The air is thick and hot, but a breeze develops around seven o’clock. Children fill the sidewalks with bicycles and skateboards, and adults sit out side, trying not to sweat. As the sun sets close to nine o’clock, diluted with smog, the sky turns orange, purple, pink–like the sun itself is exhaling, spreading her arms wide into the sky, wiggling her fingers, relaxing.

We were lucky to have this summer together, Kris had planned to visit for the month of May, and then head back to Indiana. One month turned into two, two into three, three into four. Come July, it was time for him to return to Purdue and begin teaching. I had never met his brother he talks of so fondly, or his Pa in Oklahoma, or driven through this beautiful country–going together seemed like the only logical decision.

Our first stop was Sacramento, where we visited with my Grandma over sandwiches and potato salad. It was their first meeting, and my heart swelled listening to two of my favorite people banter back and forth–intelligently–discussing American politics for the last one hundred years.  She supplied us with blocks of fancy cheese, crackers, strawberries, and all the love and luck in the world. We were unable to stay the night with her that day, and at the time it seemed like the most logical decision since we were on a time schedule, but today, I regret not staying with her. Each time I see my grandmother, I think that I will see her soon, but it’s never true. It would have meant a lot to both her and I if we would have stayed, and I feel selfish for not doing so.

That night, we drove for about six more hours, and ended up crashing at a motel somewhere in Nevada, along the loneliest road in America. We ate gas station muffins for breakfast, and continued our journey. I slept for a few hours in the car, as Kris listened to Phish with the windows down. For lunch we found a China Buffet in a town of maybe 1,000 people. We drove through a lightening storm entering Utah, a state I found incredibly beautiful. We took our time driving through the Red Rocks, discussing religion and making up scenarios for what ancient people must have used such amazing land formations for.

Four month update.

In less than six weeks, I am moving to  Colorado. The plan–originally–had been to graduate in December, say, “Goodbye!” to California, and move to Indiana. Instead, I got a promotion with my company, and am being relocated. Kris will be moving with me, and we are so ecstatic to start our lives together–finally–in a new place. We’ve been separated for over a year, him in Indiana teaching, me in California. It’s too hard. We discussed continuing this separation until May, but it’s just not worth it. We will always have opportunities in separate locations because of our career fields, we’ve decided to make our relationship number one. Family is close, money will be good. We’ll be able to afford a wedding, a home, life.

We are moving without any furniture in hopes that we will be able to either salvage or build everything for our new home, together. (I hope to document all the projects here!) We are excited to spend time together each evening, curled up on the couch with our pug Sparky, watching Netflix. We have bought books on gardening, cooking and homesteading. We have vowed to explore, to ride bikes, to kayak. We hope to make new friends.

I have never moved anywhere. I’ve lived in the same area for my entire twenty-four years. I have gone over seas, I have been out of state, but never have I been brave enough–or stable enough–to venture so far away, so permanently. I have always dreamt of living somewhere new, somewhere I can make my own, but the circumstances have never been right. Today, I feel so blessed to have everything right. I have the man, the career, the education, the drive, and most importantly, the love and support from friends and family.

Things will not be easy, and I’m sure there will be days filled with frustration and tears, but to know that I’ve earned this is so uplifting. I’ve earned this. I’ve paid for school myself, I’ve supported myself since the age of eighteen, I’ve worked instead of taking vacations, I’ve studied instead of just passing. Now, all my hard work has paid off, and it–my life–is happening. Buckle your seat belt, this adventure is going to be awesome.