End of the Trip

For the last month, I've been re-living the adventure our family experienced of traveling from Maine to California (and home again).

I've been trying to write about 2,000 words each day to reach the goal of 50,000 words for NoWriMo

Last night, I finished!

With the help of my husband and children and encouragement of my friends and family, I thoroughly wrote about every little thing we could remember about the trip. (We had lots of laughs, surprises, and a few debates.)

Here is one more excerpt for you, my faithful followers and readers:
(We had driven straight through from Fargo, North Dakota, in 48 hours, and arriving in Searsport on July 5, at dawn.)

The sun was just lightening the sky - not quite sunrise, but almost there. I turned on to Route #1 -going toward Searsport, over the bridge. The bay was beautiful. I opened my window and took a long whiff of the salt air. I missed that.

Here and there a house lights’ were on. People were just waking up. It was the height of tourist season. All the parking lots of the motels were full: Seascape Motel, Admiral’s Inn, the Yardarm. We went past Moose Point State park. Every once in awhile, we would see something that had changed in the last month. There was a new sign for the antique store or the truck in front of the hardware store had finally sold.

We went past the Bay View Boarding home and past Prospect Street, where we used to attend Searsport Baptist Church. Now we meet in a one room little building, Ford Chapel, out on Smart Road. I missed our little church. I missed the small family feel of it. I couldn’t wait for Sunday to come around again.

We slowed down through the middle of town, past Jordan’s Restaurant and the bank, past the road to the post office and Mosman Park, past the grocery store and the Penobscot Marine Museum, past the Methodist church, and the Full Gospel church, past the road that led to the library and public schools. We drove past the Carriage House Inn and the Homeport Inn and all the other huge captain houses.

The morning sun reflected on the calm bay. Sailboats floated on pink and purple water. I didn’t realize how pretty our town was, until I had been away for awhile. We drove past the Irving station and the bend in the road, where you could see the railroad tracks and the cove and Sears Island. The tide was going out. The wet sand glistened in the morning light. I slowed and put on my blinker, as we past the Sears Island Road and Kidder Point Road, where Randy worked for so many years. As we turned on to Turnpike road, and Abel stretched out his hands. “We’re going home!”

Yes, we were finally going home! We all cheered. This was our road. We knew who lived in every house: the Andrews, the Englands, the McFaddens, the Leightons, the Merrills... We knew every bump in the road. We turned into our driveway, past Grammy’s house. She was probably awake, having her cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.

We turned left down our bumpy driveway, past the pond. The grass was about a foot high. There was our house. It wasn’t fancy. It didn’t have a big deck around it and a pool. I used to think it was too small, that it was a tight fit for ten people, but was much better than a tent or a KOA cabin. It had room enough for everyone to sleep in their own bed. It was beautiful and it was our house. Because it was HOME!

1 comment:

Joanne Sher said...

AGAIN, congrats, Vonnie! And I love this excerpt. VERY nicely done!


Related Posts with Thumbnails