By 10:01am, I was on the road. Ipod charged, gas tank full and kids safely in the care of my parents. For the next 18 hours, I was just free of obligations, responsibility and schedules.
Armed with the English accented GPS, I embarked on my driving journey to New England. Perhaps it is my keen sense of direction or my unwillingness to believe that a box plugged into a cigarette lighter can tell me where I should go, I ignored most of my alluring voiced companion and drove long winding roads with breath-taking views of farms and mountains and fields of vegetation. At moments, with the perfect song and the perfect view, the ride was religious – that was until Mr. English GPS informed me I was going in the wrong direction or driving on water. “Turn around and proceed to the motorway”. “Please find the nearest land and proceed out of the water”.
I am proud to announce that I arrived at my destination without making one single wrong turn and greeted with the most quaint home nestled in the woods. I opened the car door and took in the fresh clean air. Country living at its best.
It was a trip I was anticipating for several weeks and it did not disappoint. We laughed. We ate. We reminisced. We drank. We dined on fine cooked meals prepared by the master chef. We cackled well into the night just like old times. We even took a hike along a brisk path (“are you sure I can hike in my flip-flops?”) which led to a dip in the pool beneath the waterfall.
Today I sit at my desk completely rejuvenated and I look at this picture.
I know. Picture Perfect.