I’ve been pretty quiet for a bit, and to be real, I’m not totally sure why.

I think I just got tired and let things pile up or maybe I just needed a breather without really knowing it.

Last weekend, I finally did something about it and took a family road trip to San Diego. It wasn’t a full on vacation, just a couple of days tacked onto the long Labor day weekend, but it was enough.

We spent some time at La Jolla beach, letting the sun and water do their thing, and ate way too much good food in Old Town San Diego, just wandering, talking, and trying whatever looked good.

When we got back, one of my kids (Z), mentioned that it always seems like the ride home is way quicker than the ride there. It instantly made me think of something I wrote earlier in the year when I was reflecting on a different trip that made time feel all mixed up.

I’m still trying to figure out exactly what I want this space to be, but maybe if I keep coming back to it, something good will happen. Here’s that post:

The ride home always seems faster than the ride there

One and a half?

Less than two.

It only takes a couple of hours at most to get there. Once we’re there, it’s always ten, fifteen, or sometimes twenty degrees cooler than it is at home.

8668 feet. I looked it up.

That’s why it’s so much cooler.

I mean, I guess so. Almost five thousand feet higher than what we’re used to when we’re up there in the forest.

The last time we were there, we took a different trail. When we found a spot to sit and take in the view from the top of the mountain, overlooking the treetops and beyond the desert of white sands, you said you wanted to build a house right there so you could see that view every day.

I said there didn’t seem to be enough room to build a house because I couldn’t imagine destroying or building over anything that we were around at the moment. Besides that, I said, this is federal property.

I want to live here! You said it like you were only half joking, and you knew I was being facetious anyway, or you knew that I was already stressing about how I was going to afford to build us a mountain getaway because maybe you were only half joking, and you know how I am.

We were unable to see around just beyond this bend, and that happened a few times on this new trail. One time, a huge elk passed in front of us about 50 yards away, and we all got nervous about its size and what else might unexpectedly cross the path.

We took pictures with our phones, and some were better than others.

And there were enough hummingbirds and Stellar jays and other birds that we couldn’t identify to keep us busy enough not to say out loud that we were thinking about a bear or a mountain lion. At least, that’s what I was thinking. And I didn’t say it out loud.

I picked up a pretty good-sized tree branch lying on the ground by the side of the trail, and I used it as a walking stick. I kept turning it in my hand to grip it in different ways to get used to my weapon before I had to use it.

Then we made it back to the parking lot, and since I hadn’t used it for much, I propped the branch against a tree trunk upright so that someone else passing by later could use it if they wanted to.

The air was still cool, and it was time to leave. It would take us a couple of hours to get back home.

And for some reason the ride home always seems faster than the ride there.

✌🏽🖤