Through a series of tiresome events, an early morning flight with a short layover turned into a seven hour drive home with my family.
I hadn’t considered all of the unexpected little details I’d remember from the road trip. I intended to sleep, but instead ended up staring out the window as I listened half-mindedly to the audiobook my sister put on the speakers. I watched the train ride alongside the highway, its colourful boxes cutting across the dual tone landscape, and I wondered if train workers ever get used to the landscape shifting from endless fields to mountains and rainforest.
When my morning grogginess faded, my family was discussing licence plate mottos and learning Quebécois history. We stopped by a Tims and my mom embarrassed my sister by dancing to the country music playing over the radio. We hit the road again, we laughed about always regretting getting an Iced Capp, and collectively frowned at the sound of a small rock hitting the windshield.
Lately, my life has been moving fast. Yet, it was far more rewarding to spend hours with my family than taking an efficient flight. Maybe this is a sign to take it slow this summer.
