Day Four of the National Disaster Massive Road Trip: Unpacking Memories at HOME!

If you have never driven through the Tahoe National Forest in the northern Sierra Nevada, I encourage you to put it on your bucket list. When California greets you with her spectacular snowy mountains, you may never want to leave. Every time I cross the Nevada/California border on Interstate 80, I’m struck by the beauty of my state and my good fortune to get to live here. Today’s blue sky was punctuated with huge, white, fluffy clouds. The snow on the mountains reflected the sunshine’s bright rays. I glanced back at the kids, ready to suggest that they put down their devices and look out the window. They were already looking out their windows, ready for our long drive to be over. 

Two hours later, I pulled the ginormous van into my Davis driveway, feeling as though we were returning from another world, and entering a new time. The kids and I agreed that we had been lucky on our NDMRT for so many reasons. Every detail worked out, despite a few snafus. I’m rather amazed we pulled it off. 

The ginormous van sits at about the height of a typical monster truck, so one more jumps rather than steps down from it. This van is a beast of a vehicle that served us well, but one that I will not miss. The sheer volume of unloaded college kid belongings surprised even those of us who loaded it in Wisconsin. Was that really only four days ago?

Even though I wanted to collapse on the couch, I made a quick run to Nugget (a favorite local grocery store) to pick up milk and eggs and all the perishables Andy and Jukie had consumed during their time sheltering in place. The checkout guy asked me, “So, you been keeping busy?” 😳 He would soon wish that he had never asked that question. Before long he was nodding with a wide-eyed expression that reflected his amazement and his discomfort. I suspect that he will never cross Wyoming in a snowstorm while navigating a vehicle whose windshield and headlights iced over to near opaqueness about once every 10 minutes.

Back at home, our family of five got our second wind over dinner and took turns swapping stories about our time apart. Surrounded by my own DNA, so to speak, I was done with social distancing. Geneva, on my immediate left, gave away the three oranges that her dad peeled for her, and wolfed down her noodles and fresh rolls, while Jukie, on my immediate right, gave me all sorts of beaming smiles as he devoured his salad. He exuded joy! And Margot, she got to sleep in my lap all through the meal. 

Geneva and Andy will finish their academic spring quarters online, with classes taught or taken in between long nature walks and bike rides, some of our favorite Davis activities. Truman has been making lists of books to read (he is finishing Return of the King now), movies to watch, and cookie recipes to try out. The last play Andy saw this month (maybe this year?) was Hamlet, in which the title character says “there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so" (or so Andy keeps telling us). This national calamity is awful, surely, as are our federal response and the man in the White House who should be leading us, but in our tiny corner of Davis this spring we will exercise social distance from everyone except those in the house, the close participants in our unexpected, extended, and, one hopes, healthy staycation. It starts for real tomorrow after we return this van with seating for 12, one which has been filled with stuff and memories that we will be unpacking for a long time.