The trip home

And so begins the long haul back to the mitten. 

I'll have more to say soon about the trip, the experience, the lack of an expected phone call and the resulting anxiety, and the game. 

In short, the game was tough to watch.

It changed nothing about the trip for me. 

It was perfect.

I spent every second of it with people I love. 

Aside from the fact that I don't like flying, I love the time on the road. 

In the quiet stretches, I've thought about where I am, where I'm going, what I want and what I hope for with more clarity than I have in a long time. 

I haven't felt sick (except for a vicious hangover) since we left East Lansing at 9am on the 29th. 

I haven't had cancer, in my mind, even if I do, since that moment either. 

I'm not the type to always see the positives. Optimism isn't my forte. 

But for some reason, 2 hours into this 18 hour drive, where there should be a lack-of-caffeine-induced scowl, there's a smile. 

Yes, I'm on the way home from an amazing trip, my team lost (in terrible fashion), am headed away from vacation and "back to reality," and possibly bad news from Ann Arbor...all reasons I could be anxious or bummed. 

At the moment, though, my co-pilot is taking a nap. 

And this is happening.

And the sun is shining on her beautiful sleeping face (she would kill me if I posted a picture of that, so take my word for it--it's beautiful).

So while the miles pass, and we get further from Texas and closer to home and the uncertainty that exists there, it occurs to me:

I'm right where I want to be--and I don't mean Texarkana, Texas.

Find a guy who says he's luckier than me, and I'll find you a liar. 

For the moment, Mr. Realist/Pessimist is on cloud nine.

Thanks to everyone who made this trip happen. I love you guys. 

Go green.