Homeward Bound

Husband was the one who suggested a road trip, to any destination I chose. He barely got the words out before I yelled, "TO THE SEA!" and had the hated tent trailer hitched and packed with essentials: dog food, litter box, SUP and camera.

We decided ("We.") I decided that the closest access to the sea was through Quebec and so we headed for the Gaspe peninsula and Forillon National Park. Every time my beloved waves came into view I would point and say, "I can SEE THE SEA." 

It's all a blur of cheerful villages and houses painted every colour of the rainbow. Of fog and white caps and lighthouses. Of campfires and blown trailer fuses and a seemingly endless dog walk that lasted for five days. 

I took so many pictures of rocks and flotsom, none of which are interesting to anyone but me. We ate scrambled eggs and toast for breakfasts, seasoned with pine needles because a dropped egg is still a good egg when you're camping. We played ukulele and sang along to The Hip and because we were in Quebec, we even sang along to Rush.

It was short. It was sweet. It was perfect. 

Even though we tried unsuccessfully to lose Tofino. Twice.

Until my feet were wet,

Until my lips were salty, 

Until my skin was prickled with chill and red from the sun, 

Until my heartbeat steadied to match measured waves, 

And my breath became easy and slow,

I didn't know the thing that I was missing most was Home.

Thank you, Sweetie.