There was a point in time, when...
I had a really great way to clear my head.
When Tim was deployed, I used to do it a lot.
I would crank something loud on the radio,
open my moon roof,
unroll all the other windows...
and just tear down PCH.
I would drive for awhile,
or as long as it took for me to feel better.
There was something about driving on that winding road,
with the foaming ocean, sparkling in the sunshine to my right,
and million dollar homes on my left.
The wind whipping my hair around so much,
it would take me a half an hour to comb it smooth once I got home.
I loved it.
All that frustration just seemed to dissipate out those windows...
and that pit in my stomach would nearly subside.
That pit of feeling homesick...
I wished for one moment...I could be racing down PCH,
the windows open
the sun shining down on me...
instead of looking down,
seeing that it was 14 degrees
as I drove past the hospital
where Will died
exactly 6 months earlier...
But instead, the only things that were the same:
and that pit in my stomach...
one that I really do think will always be there.
Maybe I should have rolled down all my windows.
That freezing air would have snapped me out of whatever fog I was in that moment...but then again, I just might have froze to death.
And that would have been a shame.
Because then none of us would get to see just how fabulous...
this story is really going to end.