Drive

I feel like I’ve been stuck here with no way out. 

even my suitcase feels...empty

Jacksonville is a really cool place, though it’s much cooler when I can actually leave town and miss it for awhile. 

I’m missing out on a lot of things.  At least that’s how I feel every morning when I wake up, feed the kid and take her to school, feed myself and  go to work, pick up my daughter from school, and come back home.  Again and again and again.   The biggest surprise of my day is going to my office and discovering my favorite pen has been stolen…or returned.  See, you never know what’s going to happen with my favorite pen.  It’s like a cliffhanger every day.  Sure, I could lock up all of my favorite writing utensils every evening but I keep my life exciting like that.

You don’t believe me, do you?  That’s your problem.  I just know I can’t wait until I can get in my car, pick a nice highway to hang out with for a few hours, and drive.  North, South, East, West.  It doesn’t matter to me.  Well, it does somewhat matter to me.  To drive East for a few hours would leave me quite waterlogged and, well…drowned. 

I’m looking forward to Christmas break.  I am fortunate enough to work for the state of Florida’s university system and therefore receive a nice paid vacation at the end of the year.  There are other federal holidays and school closings that leave me with a paid three-day weekend.  It’s just that when your days are usually filled with grocery shopping and laundry sometimes a three-day stint doesn’t seem long enough, especially when you have to come home from a three-day weekend with barely enough time to finish your grocery shopping and laundry. 

Maybe I’m just getting old. 

Maybe three days aren’t long enough and I’m getting old.

Maybe because I’m getting old, three days aren’t exactly as long as they used to be.

Maybe I just need a vacation.

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About Dena

I'm a suburban Clevelander by way of Oklahoma City, by way of North Florida, by way of Southern Maryland, by way of Upper Michigan, by way of Northern Italy, by way of Lower Michigan, by way of Texas. Because of living in so many places, I have something in common with almost everyone I meet. I love reading, writing, and American history (especially reading or writing about American history). I'm interested in culture of place, historical trauma, and writing about the kinds of histories most people don't know about.
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