The End of the Whole Mess

photo of paint splatter artwork



If it hadn’t happened to me and if it wasn’t true, it might almost be comical. Last time I was here blogging I was describing the tranquility needed at the end of a trip of any sort. If you remember, my family and I extended our little getaway an extra day to be used only to recharge and recuperate. Which I guess in theory sounded great. It really did. That was right up until the next morning before we checked out of our hotel room.

I woke up first, showered, and packed up what I could before waking up my wife and son. My son woke up without issue, but not my wife. She seemed more groggy than usual (and that is truly saying something) and when she sat up it was clear why: her right eye was bloodshot and swollen beyond belief.

It didn’t take a genius to realize this was a case of pink eye and that we wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon (I do not have a driver’s license and driving was not worth the risk as far away from home as we were). My wife, however, wanted to brave it and attempt the drive. We made it one hour before having to stop for the day once again (this time in search of a different type of recuperation) to not only be safe but survive.

The next morning was not any better. Or should I say my wife was not any better after another night of rest. Her eye was just as red as the morning before, if not more so. But we had no choice but to press on and attempt again; real life was waiting impatiently for us back home. So, we went on.

The first part of the drive was a little sketchy, but it didn’t take long for it to become full-on terrifying. We got as far as we could before I had no choice but to drive. Running on a mixture of emotions, I managed, and we finally made some headway. Once my wife was feeling “better”, we swapped back and safely made it home.

So, yes, we made it back to reality, and with a bang, too. I’m not altogether sure why I’m even writing about this; not only would I like to forget about the excursion, on the whole, it just sounds silly. It’s one of those things that is perhaps funny when it happens to somebody else, but not you. Maybe? Maybe it’s not funny at all. In any situation.

I’m spending just a brief, quick moment here, I guess in some silly way, to document this as proof that we’re really home. It’s a good feeling. In the end, the whole trip was great and ultimately worth it. All of it. More memories made, more stories to be told. All that jazz. I’m glad we’re safe. I do plan on taking some time to mentally unpack, though. Sometimes staying safe can be harder than it looks.

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