I'm remembering how we felt when our laptop was stolen so many months ago in southern Peru, just after crossing the border. A sense of violation, of things taken apart and not easily patched back together. Distrust in the most common situations. I'm feeling that way again, only this time, I can't just run to the computer store and replace a laptop.
So I'm not driving in the dead of winter 4,000 miles from Philadelphia to Spokane. Allen's doing very well after the stroke, but his stamina is limited to fifteen minute shots. I keep thinking what could I do if something happens when we're in, for example, the wilds of the Texas Panhandle.
Allen says we should not make decisions based on fear. How does he know me so well? So we're flying. Southwest. Two bags each free. The car will be shipped or transported or whatever they do coast-to-coast with cars. No stops in the many places we love, New Orleans, Tucson, Corvallis, Dallas, Portland. But home and safe by January 15. As safe as one can be. And I'm still working on patching things together.