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It didn’t take us long to pack and hightail out of our room at the Red Knight Motel. We were scared that if we looked in the closet again with alert & sober eyes, the dead hooker really would be there.

It was even quicker for us to check out, and ixnay the free continental breakfast. Axle grease coffee, day old bread and dispensable fruit loops in curdled milk just aren’t our scene. Food snobs, remember? Realists, too. So, we ended up going the way of motorists and truckers traversing scenic America: Drive thru McDonalds for egg mcmuffins, coffee and hash browns. We may be food snobs, but totally agree that breakfast is the best contribution McDonalds has made to the planet. When will they wise up and make it an all day thing?

We were still into our coffee when Sandy poked me in the ribs and said,

He: Cheech?

Me: Yes, Ace?

He: I really liked Target.

Me: I know you did, and I’m so glad!

He: Cheech?

Me: Yes, Ace?

He: Is there another Target close to here?

Me: Didn’t satisfy the craving, huh?

He: Noooo….

Shirley found us a Target in Buffalo, New York, conveniently located across the street from the Walden Galleria Mall. More Target AND other fantastic stores we are not privy to at home. Happy, happy shoppers, us.

When the number of bags in our hands got to a level of ridiculous (we’re in a Mini, remember), we decided that it was definitely time to go. In less than two hours, through some pretty poopy weather and all kinds of hilly roads, we finally made it home.

It never really hits me that a trip is over until that hour or so before I get to my front porch. I can be on a plane, in a car, whatever, but until that last hour I’m still in full vacation mode. When the skies opened up to rain down on us, as we made the last merge onto the highway that would take us home I thought, This is it. It was great, fantastic, but it’s over.

It’s never a very happy thing, coming down from your vacation high. But it’s nice at the same time, having that experience and knowing how it has, in some small way, changed you for the better. And so for my thank-you prayer:

There once was a girl in a bucket
Who decided to go Nantucket
She so loved her time there
That it made her swear,
“I’m coming back here someday, Fuck it!”

Crass, so crass. A poet I ain’t, nor bucket resident, but then rhyming really isn’t my thing. I think Sandy said it best, after we’d unpacked everything into his house, after the mess had been sorted and divided into His and Hers piles, when he pulled me in for a soft hug and quietly told me, “Thank you for this.”

I knew exactly what he meant. Getting away, seeing what we did, taking our time, sleeping well, not thinking about the daily grind if only for a few days, made all the difference in the world.