The end of my journey lacked any sort of dramatic flourish that I had imagined along the way.
I had imagined that my girlfriend would want to see me. Perhaps I would stop by her home on the way to my house to receive her welcome.
She had made other plans.
The journey was an act of independence. A challenge to myself.
Challenge accepted.
I wrote the account to remember the moments of the adventure. The hot, the uncomfortable, the beauty, the failures and the excitement. It gave me a chance to ponder and write in my own clumsy way.
The relationship with Barb would end in less than six months. I found someone in her that was more independent than myself.
She had other plans.
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