This morning my alarm went off at six, and I woke up feeling worse than I’ve felt in days. When I coughed up some junk in my sister’s sink, it became clear that whatever moved into my sinuses last week had not only made itself comfortable, but had also put its snotty little shoes up on an ottoman and confiscated the TV remote. Needless to say, I was not impressed, and I seriously considered screwing my plans in Arkansas this week and going back to bed. But I cleaned up, got myself and my things together, and prepared to hit the road.

Some days you simply have to power through.

After a quick breakfast and goodbyes with my sister and nephews, I grabbed a cup of coffee and walked out the backdoor. Just as I did, I caught a final glimpse of my sister talking to one of my nephews, and part of me wanted to stay, to listen, to hold on a little longer. But it was already after seven, so just like that, I closed the door, jumped in my car, and headed east. Now it’s almost midnight, and I’m back in Van Buren at my parents’ kitchen table. I can still see my sister there in her kitchen, and it’s kind of hard to believe we’re only separated by a day’s drive and don’t see each other more often.

To be fair to both of us, it makes for a pretty long day in the car. Especially if you happen to feel about as good as a warm turd.

Because I had dinner plans, I plowed through the drive in record time, and only stopped twice. This made the trip just over ten hours, including two stops. Normally my bladder would have needed more breaks, but I purposefully deprived the little sucker of fluids, which is probably not the smartest thing to do when you’re sick. It’s also probably not a good idea to drive with the windows down so all the dust and air pollution can irritate your already irritated sinuses, but I did that too. I kept hoping the decline in elevation would help everything, but so far I haven’t experienced a miracle, even though I’m almost a mile lower than I was this morning.

That being said, it is easier to breathe, and I’ve heard breathing is important.

The drive itself was great. I’ve really been so grateful for Tom Collins (my car) this trip. He’s been a true-blue trooper and infinitely better to travel in than the car I had before. (Sorry, Polly.) At the beginning of today’s journey, I listened to a lecture on trauma and transformation, then one on boundaries. Well, I can only handle so much “growth” in one day, so for the rest of the trip I listened to a travel playlist my friend Bonnie sent me. Y’all, it was the coolest thing–every song was handpicked and had something to do with getting away, being on the road (again), or coming home. Short of a hot toddy, it was just what I needed to prop me up.

After dinner, Tom Collins and I finally pulled into my parents’ driveway. Safe and sound and only a little worse for the wear after nearly two weeks on the road, both of us heaved a collective sigh. Ever anal-retentive, I immediately began unpacking and putting everything back in its place. Then I went to Walmart for supplies for yet-another sinusitis home remedy and bananas. I’ll say more about the sinus thing after I try it out, but no (in case you were wondering), the bananas were not part of it. I’m up for just about anything, but come on, bananas go in your mouth, not your nose.

For a while before I started blogging, Mom and Dad and I talked about my trip–our family (of course), all the friends I got to see, all the things I got to do. (If you’d like to know more, uh, read this blog.) In turn, they filled me in on the latest in Van Buren, then went to bed. So for the last thirty minutes, I’ve been sitting alone, blogging. Also, in an effort to undo some of the damage from earlier today, I’ve been double-fisting liquids–water in one hand, hot tea in the other–and (I’m pretty confident) have already ingested enough fluid to float a battleship.

Or at least a bladder-ship. (Yuk, yuk, yuk.)

Anyway, we’ll see if hydrating, having air to breathe, and sleeping makes a difference. Tomorrow promises to be a long day also, so fingers crossed. At the moment, all I can really think about is going to bed. Daddy is WTFO (That’s Worn the Fuck Out, Mom.) Still, part of me wants to wrap this day up somehow, put it away in its proper place as if it were a t-shirt. It seems as life changes in an instant. One moment you’re seeing your sister in a doorway, then you’re not. One moment you’re powering through, then you finally hit a wall. You wake up in one state and pass out in another. Personally, I’m starting to believe that “coming home” really has very little to do with where you unpack your bags. Rather, “coming home” is about seeing yourself through all of life’s moment-to-moment changes and realizing there’s nowhere else you can ever be (or ever have been) except right here, right now.