Are you weary of these letters yet?
The good news is that we will arrive home tomorrow.
The bad news is that we are not there yet.
Regretfully yours, April
You will be amazed to know that we made it to the panhandle tonight, even before the sun went down.
Apparently there really is nothing I can't do. Make a note of it, darling.
I drove through five states today and went 855 miles (all by myself) and even the sun was impressed. It watched me all day long and then threw a little party for me as we came into Amarillo. The sky was on fire and made one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever seen. Add the silhouettes of the huge silos in the foreground and you know my heart was thumping.
(I'm giving you fair warning that whatever welcome home party you are planning for tomorrow night, it might have been upstaged by the show tonight. I recommend a little passionate necking as one of the party games just to be safe.)
We stopped at Liberty Jail on the way through Missouri. It was tender and faith-promoting, and especially touching to Caleb. (Though it does pain me to admit that hearing the accounts of women who walked from Missouri to Illinois with their little children in the middle of winter made my cross-country driving feat seem slightly less impressive.)
From Missouri we went a different way than we usually do, and when we came into Kansas, I excitedly told the kids they were in a state they had never been in. But actually, it looked quite a bit like Oklahoma and even though it was all new, the kids lost interest pretty quickly and slept from Topeka to Wichita.
The rest of the day was miles and miles of land and sky, barns and hay bales and cow crossings over the highway. The heartland will steal your heart.
And now we are tucked in in Amarillo. The kids showered and are softly snoring. I know I made it look easy today, but to tell the truth, I am dizzy and rather nauseated. (A consequence of being both slightly carsick and popping M&M's most of the day to stay awake.) This does not bode well for the final leg tomorrow.
It's a good thing I'm amazing.
But then, you already knew that.
Always yours, Ap