Down the road…

I’m revisiting this post from one of my tour stops last month.  It was one of my favorites, since it brought up some great memories.

I’m not a big traveler.  I mean, I’d like to be, I’d like to be toodling around in a giant Winnebago or flying off to exotic locales like ones I read about.  But my very blue collar world doesn’t include scenarios like that.  I’ve only really been on a few big trips in my life.

A big vacation when I was in the fourth grade brought me to the Grand Canyon and all up the West Coast.  I’ve been scuba diving in Grand Cayman and Cozumel and Honduras.  I’ve been to London.  I’ve been skiing in Taos, NM.  All of those things were in my twenties.  And I went to Vegas for my honeymoon.  That about sums up my travelling portfolio.

But one trip that wasn’t a vacation, stands out in my head as life altering.

When my daughter was five, her dad and I called it quits.  We were living in Colorado at the time, a beautiful, majestic place.  Also rivaling California for expensive living.  I couldn’t afford to live there on my own, and I didn’t want to.  It was time to move back home.  To Texas.  To family.

The small town I was going back to would be very different from what I was leaving behind.  I knew that.  I knew I was making the conscious choice to raise my daughter in an entirely different lifestyle.  She would be a blue-collar Texas girl, like I was.  So my dad and my brother rented a uHaul truck and drove the 2-day stretch to come help me pack up everything I owned, and we left.

I remember looking in the rearview mirror with tears in my eyes as I watched the big rock formation in Castle Rock, Colorado disappear around a bend.

I knew I’d never be back.  I felt the loss as I drove through mountain passes and little picturesque towns.  I looked at my daughter, coloring in a Barbie coloring book, who really wasn’t old enough to register what she was leaving behind, and both celebrated that fact and regretted it.

I got to spend precious moments with my dad, that I didn’t really realize was precious at the time.  We stopped and ate at little mom and pop diners along the way, and stayed at the tiniest roach motel I’ve ever seen…lol…  I remember pulling up finally, at the end of the second day, into my mother’s driveway.  Thinking:  “I’m finally home” and “Oh my God, what have I done” at the very same time.  I had no house, no job, no security for my daughter other than a support system of family.  I got us there two weeks before Kindergarten started, so she’d start in one place and not have to move in the middle.

One month later, I found a rent house and a job in the very same day.  And five years later my dad died…with my mom to follow eight months after that.  My choice gave my daughter a chance to know them, hang out with them almost daily.  She has deep rooted memories that I wish could have lasted longer but at least they are there.  She’s 17 now, and remembers certain activities with them vividly.

I still miss Colorado sometimes, but I’ve been here for twelve years now, have remarried into a wonderful family and have fully reinstated my Texas drawl and attitude.  It’s home again.

Do you have a trip that changed your life in some way?  Share!

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About Sharla Lovelace

Writer of romantic women's fiction. Wife, mom, and wonderwoman...without the boobs. National Bestselling Author of THE REASON IS YOU, BEFORE AND EVER SINCE, and the e-novella JUST ONE DAY. Lover of anything red.

Posted on May 23, 2012, in Blog Posts and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. Sharla, that is a sad and lovely story. Not knowing, we often have a common thread that connects us. I drove down Route 35 … the Jersey Shore road … heading for the Garden State, the bridge in Staten Island and the Narrows Bridge to Brooklyn. My son was three, my daughter five months, each in separate car seats in the back. I remember thinking I had just left what I thought was my dream house, the boy I fell in love with, my Navy man, my soul mate. Feeling like a failure, I moved back to my home … to Brooklyn and a new life … a new dream. Some of the roads we travel take us away from what we thought was a dream … others bring us back home to find another. The roads we travel are only a part of our journey. Thanks 🙂

  2. Sharla, this was such a moving post. I grew up a military brat, so moving from one part of the world to another was pretty much taken in stride. I don’t think one particular move changed my life. Rather, living so many different places, seeing people in a variety of circumstances, helped to shape who I ended up becoming as a person.

  3. I’ve stayed close to home, but when I was younger, always wanted to move, anywhere, anytime. So no life changing stories to tell. Yours is beautiful, Sharla. 🙂

  4. I remember this post — and so much worth another read . . . still brings tears to my eyes.

    Coming back to the Appalachian Mountain region changed my life. I spent most of my life aching to be back to my roots, and now that I am here, it is Home – belonging.

  5. Don’t have a move story other than I’ve settled in a small town north of Orlando for the same reason. Family. No job, no landscape, no glorious vista can replace the joy I feel connected to loved ones. Thanks for the reminder!

  1. Pingback: A trip that changed you… « Sharla Lovelace, Author

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