The Journey

I can almost grasp it.

The things that I saw, the experience that I had, and the way that I felt as I left an emotionally abusive marriage and took off on my own for the first time...

It was September 19, 2002.   My 23rd birthday.  I loaded up everything I was willing to fight for into my truck and started driving at six in the morning.  I headed through New Mexico into Arizona.  I spent three nights in Phoenix, then headed into California - back home.   I waved goodbye to the mountains with a cocky hand.  I exulted in the mesas and red dirt that I drove towards.  It was raining as I drove into Phoenix.  I cried jubilantly when I crossed the state line into California.  I almost wrecked multiple times staring out the window at the ocean.

I saw and felt so much on that journey - the beginning of my journey - that I think I relegated it to the back of my mind to be dealt with later.  It was too much.  Now, eight years later, it's beginning to resurface.  I think I will be lucky if I am ever able to put that experience into words.  I know that I will have to revisit this again. 

I was brave and confident and terrified and clueless.... and I did it.  On my own.