A Last Hurrah

We signed the 12-month lease to our apartment and moved what little we had into it. Air mattresses flooded the bedroom floors and clothes were stacked into closets along with cherished toys that made the trip west. The living room and dining room were bare, only paper plates and plastic spoons filled the kitchen cabinets.

"Don't unpack anything more," Sean said, "We're blowing this joint as soon as we find a house."

"Great," I answered back, "I've been living out of a box for the last three months and now you are telling me I can't unpack?"

"Yes! Don't get all comfortable and attached to this place! We're not staying here long!" and off he went carrying boxes to a corner that would remain closed.

Sometimes you have to trust your spouse with things that are really touchy. This was touchy. I missed home and even though I really loved everything I was finding about Washington, the attachment to our home was still very strong, if not too strong.

So, we sat around on the empty living room floor and took a good look at each other. Within an hour we were in the van and heading to the rv storage to pick up our trailer. We were hitting the road.

"We have two more weeks until school starts," I began, "Let's go see the Redwoods!"

We drove through Washington down to Oregon. We were kind of gitty with feeling like we were escaping the pressures and schedules of life again. Watching the open road for hours is oddly theraputic. Just like life, nothing stays the same--no matter how you try to keep it so. The miles pass and with it bring new soil, foliage, air and micro cultures.

I called my brother who lives in Corvallis, Oregon. He was camping along the sand dunes with his wife and kids and riding his off-road dirt bike for the weekend. We had already passed that area and were south of him. The sand dunes run along the coast from mid Oregon all the way to the border to northern California. We were on Hwy 101 and there were areas where the sand blew into the road, making sand drifts of tan/pink crystals.

"Too cool!" I yelled up front, "Let me see if I can find a place to camp out around here for the night!"

I called ahead to a few places but everything was booked. After I had given up hope, Sean found a place and pulled us in for the night. Sand dunes were everywhere and the night was cold. We grabbed the children and gave them their headlamps.

Out above us a spectacular night sky. The big dipper so simple to view. The children gazed and observed the clusters, so full and bright. We turned off our lamps and we could see nothing, not even our hand in front of our face. A sound of moving brush sent us quickly back to the camper. Snuggled in our sleeping bags, our children slept a deep sleep, safe and free amongst the dunes.