Yesterday was a beautiful day. The sun was shining with nary a cloud in the sky. The temperature was an unseasonable 17 degrees that was reminiscent of the summer that mostly wasn't. We were lazy and lounged most of the morning. The girls laughed and kicked in the leaves at the curb as I packed the van for our trip to Grandma's. T-shirts were sported. A lovely day for a drive, so a long cut was taken. Country roads graced us with scenes of farmer's fields, lonesome cows and the last of the motorcyclists wheeling with wind in their faces. Brad rode shotgun, as a map loosely guided the van vaguely east. The Indigo Girls crooned in my ear and I was in my glory.
Until my cell beeped at me. Two missed calls, one from my Mother and one from Billy. "Where are you? Your mother is worried sick about you," a text accused. I was jarred back into present time, which was surprisingly late. My random drive and serene sunshine were abandoned for a trek back to the highway at a much faster pace. Accusing tones figured I had drank too much the night before or met someone that distracted me; neither true. I was enjoying the day in my own world, in my own head. "She must be off on a reiki train," they scoffed. I was relegated to the couch and barely made it to the adult table. "It does not matter", droned in my head. I am tired today though. Not enough sleep. Not enough normal for my family. Where do I belong? My own head seems to give my family worry. Sigh....
Normal is overrated! :P
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