Friday, November 24, 2006

On the Road

This has officially been the longest day of my life. I got home from Rupert around 10pm last night. Around 3 this morning I was sweeping my kitchen. At approximately 7:30 am I rolled out of bed. At some point I got on the road to Salt Lake to pick someone up from the airport. I was quite early to Salt Lake so I spent some time in this little coffee shop (mostly to use the wi-fi) and then all of the sudden decided I had enough time to go to a movie before having to be at the airport. I saw Bobby and it is one of the greatest movies I have ever seen. More on this later. After the airport I was back on the road and headed toward Pocatello. My phone rang a grand total of 18 times on the wya home. I just got back to Pocatello, by way of Blackfoot (it is better not to ask), knowing that at 7 am tomorrow I'll be headed out again. This time to Burley. Next week I'm not leaving town--not even to Chubbuck. I absolutely refuse.

1 comment :

Diana Rowe Pauls said...

My longest day was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving in 1986. I was visiting friends/family in southern California and started the day around 8am driving from San Luis Obisbo to Arcadia. It was raining and bumper to bumper traffic--and took forever (I thought at the time). I even rear-ended a car on the freeway (he braked, I hydroplaned) but there was no damage to either car so we both went our separate ways.

I arrived in Arcadia around noonish and learned that my brother (who was stationed at Camp Pendelton at the time) DID have leave for Thanksgiving IF someone could go pick him up. So I continued driving south. More rain, more traffic, perhaps averaging 20-35 mph. The freeway was continuous accidents and flashing lights. I can't remember exactly how long it took to make the drive but it was dark by the time I arrived to pick up my brother. I think it was about 6 or 7pm... which is approximately 3 times the normal time it takes to get there. The drive back to Arcadia was equally as stressful. I had car problems --idiot light came on about an hour or two before we arrived in the LA area. My car wouldn't start after I turned it off. My brother got a ride to my grandmother's house and left me by myself to try to fix my car. A casual friend loaned me her car and we found a 24-hour parts store which had an alternator belt (which was the problem). A taxi driver (God bless him) helped me put it on and I arrived at the house I was staying at around 1 or 2 am.

I was tired, stressed, angry, feeling unappreciated and abandoned, and very tired. I still think that my brother should have helped me out that night and, up until this moment, I've harbored resentment.

But as I think about it today, in 2006, I realize that he was young and didn't think about how his actions affected me.

He's gone now, killed in Iraq in 2003. Nothing can ever bring him back.

I would go through that day again without a second thought if I could only have my brother back for more Thanksgivings with him and our family.