Facing West And There Are Miles Under My Feet
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I am writing from a couch in a little sitting area on the third floor of a hotel in Port Angeles, Washington. There is a tall, hot coffee to my left and the ocean to my right, so I guess that means that I am facing West. The girls are back in room 301, no doubt sprawled out on the big queen beds and talking like they do and laughing like they do and it feels good to be so far from home with no reason to be anywhere but here.
Yesterday morning as we packed up the car behind the Inn where we stayed, we struck up a conversation with the non-English speaking dishwasher who was taking out the garbage. Through hand gestures and limited Spanish/English we were able to determine that 3 miles up the road is a place that we should visit. We all smiled a lot and shook hands before we left. "Gracias," I said. "Thank you," he replied.
I would like to keep this up forever. My home is where the two girls are and they are here with me and all the other stuff back in Michigan can stay there I suppose. Tomorrow is new and so was today and no matter where I am, I just need to remember that every day from here on out is really no different.
... Enjoy!
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