Yesterday, my husband stayed home to get the kiddo down for a nap while I ran to town with two of my friends to pick up a few things. It was amazing.
We took a semi back way getting there, I love this place because there are so many options for your traveling pleasure. We grabbed our stuff and got some things for the ride, then we took the long way home. I mean the long way, because we ended up stopping at Black Moshannon State Park to use their rest room. We had taken a scenic detour, the sky was gorgeous and it was a surprisingly warm day for November. After our pit stop for a pee and peek at the calm, iced tea water of the Black Moshannon, we then took Huckleberry, it's a wonderful road.
I guess my main point was how wonderful this simple pleasure was. The shear act of getting out of the house without the child, and focusing on the journey instead of the destination.
I enjoyed the company and the journey, soaking in the scenery as we slowly crept along the dirt roads, like a float in some wilderness parade where the trees were the bystanders, only in lieu of tossing candy we threw smiles of awe out at the majestic span of their limbs. We waved to the years that screamed out of each and every thick trunk. We appreciated what was passing us by instead of just driving through it, anxiously anticipating our next stop. That's a metaphor.
I always take the long way home, if I can help it.
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