Kissing my husband goodbye, the children and I climbed into the car. My stomach was in knots. I was embarking on a journey, following my dream, and yet this morning I felt sick and lonely. Ever since I was a little girl I had wanted to drive across the country like my dad had done with his school buddies, like John Steinbeck in Travels With Charlie, and now I was pulling out of the driveway. My husband followed in his car, but he was heading to work like every other day. My teenage son Joseph had a cold and he rested in the back seat. Beside him was my youngest, Laura, eager to play with the toys and crafts I had collected for the trip. In the front was my middle daughter Anna, her eyes gleaming
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