Yesterday was minor crazy. A run to Curlygirl's to give her our cot (DoodleBug has to have somewhere to sleep - we borrowed his bed for my dad). We were supposed to drop off the cot when we TOOK the bed but that would have been too easy. I forgot to drop off her last load of clean clothes when I dropped off the cot, though, so I still have a run to make.
Since I disrupted my morning routine by running to Curlygirl's (and the bank to deposit checks that I forgot to put in earlier in the week....I'm seeing a theme here), I forgot to take my morning medications. Oh, and I forgot to give mom hers.
Work was not too busy and I made it out the door by 4:30, which is actually the time I am supposed to leave (I'm lucky if I make it home by 6 most nights lately). As I was running out, I got a call from my stepmom to confirm that I was still coming. I mentioned the time that Auntie was to be picked up at the airport and discovered that apparently no one had told her or my dad that she was coming! I ran home, took my meds and packed some for this morning (oh, yeah - I forgot that too). I was on the road to Dad's by 5 - a miracle by any standard.
I set the cruise control and drove into the setting sun. Alone.
Alone is a rare thing for me. Babygirl loves to travel, bless her, and would happily have come along if there had been enough room on the return trip. But it's nice to just be inside your own head for a few minutes. The sense of peace leftover from Thursday's final rush still wrapped around my shoulders, I was able to fully engage the world around me. The remaining fall foliage, a subdued but still incredibly beautiful mix of bare trees and muted yellows and oranges, was lit by the dying sun for the first two hours of the drive. And the final hour was magical.
I caught my first glimpse of the rising full moon in my sideview mirror and caught my breath. C.S. Lewis spoke in The Last Battle about how the view in a mirror sometimes appears more 'real' than the original, and this was one of those moments. For the rest of the hour the moon played peekaboo with my eyes and my mirrors as I drove up and down the hills of western New York State, giving the appearance of perpetual moonrise as I began the descent side of hill after hill.
In the last ten minutes of the journey it poured light through the moonroof of my car, highlighting the heads and shoulders of the deer grazing on each side of the road, and casting shadows from the autumn trees. As I got out of my car at 8, I had a glimpse of the thumb-print depression of the partial eclipse, barely visible against the incredible brightness.
I walked my moonshadow to the lovely log cabin that is just one of my many homes, exactly 200 miles and three hours after setting out.
However crazy the next two weeks might be (and it will be plenty crazy), the kickoff was worth it.