Continental Divides

We turned east yesterday, and south. None of us spoke directly about it, but there was a shift in our demeanor. We've turned towards home. We passed the Continental Divide without warning. Just a little sign by the side of the road--I didn't even have time for a picture. We're heading south. There's a heaviness to that.

I'm always conflicted when it happens. Home--"home" is calling. There are loved ones there, and things to do, and routines to re-establish. But part of me always feels more at home doing this. I think it's especially hard on us this time, as all of us resonate with the Rockies and the West. A double mourning--leaving the mountains and leaving the project at the same time. I wonder if maybe we should have started west, and ended through the east. But it doesn't really matter.

We'll get up now, and pack the car. We'll head south to Wyoming, then Nebraska, then Colorado. And something will happen to us. As we get closer to home, Texas' gravitational pull will grab hold of the car, and of us. Our minds will start making lists of things we need to do when we get home. We'll start making phone calls to the people there, and plans for when we get back. I'll get more homesick, and eager to return. Conversations will be about goals and jobs and our next trip. And that's okay. It needs to happen. But for now, I grasp for this trip, hold on to the magic of this for a little bit longer. My heart aches in two directions. My Continental Divide.