The Open Road

My unwitting but effective strategy for warding off end of summer blues has been to spend as much time as possible in the car these last weeks. This included five hours to get to Syracuse on Wednesday, another five to Brooklyn on Saturday, two hours to get from Bay Ridge to the East Village and back on Sunday, three hours to get to Queens and back to Brooklyn yesterday, then another two to get home from there.

When at 11 pm last night we pulled up to our sweet little twin house, on our quiet street in our small town, my newly-planted hydrangea in the yard, tomatoes ripening on the vine, our own bed waiting for us inside, I had never felt happier to be home. Then I remembered that we’re off to Boston on Friday for the weekend—another ten hours of driving ahead of us.

At least Carl and I fixed the car radio, which had been cutting out unpredictably, because though this may surprise you who know us, we do eventually run out of things to say to each other. After an entire summer together and approximately 300 hours in the car, we can still kill a few hours with conversation, but even we have our limits.

So maybe the trick to being happy at home is to occasionally leave it for long enough that I miss it. We have been mostly at the shore for July and August, because we are very very lucky, and though I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of the shore or surfing, I do start to miss my friends and family after awhile. (Especially on days when I can’t surf.)

The joys of the road included visiting Carl’s family in Syracuse and upholding our annual tradition of attending the Great New York State Fair, where we ate Gianelli sausage, drank chocolate milk, sampled the mysterious Pizze Frite, and watched our niece Alyssa jump and somersault in one of those crazy harness contraptions. Then it was off to New York City to visit Dan, admire Baby Courtney, and attend the U.S. Open, where this lifelong tennis fan was inspired by the unknown players battling for a shot at their dream and at the best players of my generation displaying grace, greatness, complete dominance. Sharing the experience with my husband, parents and little brother made it all the sweeter.

After Boston, I will settle back into our fall routine. For today, I’m grateful for a good night’s sleep, for reconnecting with some faces I hadn’t seen all summer, for walking Nalu on our regular morning route, and for the prospect of cooking in my own kitchen—the joys of home.