Oh dear readers and dear self, I’ve been looking back on my first journey westward in Serenity, detailed here on WordPress, and bigbangboom, what the hey…???? I’ve traveled the same path on my trip in Seashell so many years later?
I know much has happened and my brain had relapses of enough multitudes that we shall pretend it didn’t occur, but again what the hey?? I’m following the same route without realizing it?
Ok, girl, get a grip. Perhaps you are following a long-dormant-memory path from your youth, from your dad later in life, from… who knows. Or perhaps you are just seriously picking the best route.
And they are all the same.
I’ve gone back to review where I stayed on my first trip compared to the second and it’s been an eye opener. I’ve changed. They’ve changed. Life’s changed. The black water dump at the KOA in Barstow, California has changed. I’ll leave you guessing or grinning or groaning at that.
I must make a conscious effort to pick different routes, even if it means perhaps choosing bad ones (with safety and preparation). It must be done.
As I head back home to Texas from Oregon, this will happen. And it will be risky because those familiar routes are the safe ones.
Hold onto your hats. And your water jugs and your diesel fuel cans.
Thankfully, I do have some time to prepare for this.
In the meanwhile, how about those ferocious winter coastal waves? Oregon, you amaze me.
Let the River Run 