Copyright © 2008 R.M. Parrish
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
If I don't get out of this car soon I'll freak. C. has already entered a beauty pageant in our new town, and she and Mom have been planning her talent and her dress and her jewelry ever since we left the Grand Canyon. I made Dad do a drive by for one last look at the big hole. Who knows when we'll be there again?
A little over an hour ago we crossed the South Carolina border and are now entering Hicksville. I mean, Lexington. This place looks like a Wal-Mart exploded all over it. The only thing Dad can get on the radio is country and golden oldies. It's been virtually impossible to find a veggie burger since reaching the South, even at the golden arches. Plus, it's hot as Hades, and I'm in a long-sleeve shirt.
I haven't heard from Tommy since we left San Fran. I don't think he's going to call, but even if he does, I'm not getting service on my Sidekick on this stretch of highway.
So welcome to South Carolina, Diary. At least we have each other.
Love, hearts and happy faces,
* * * *
Lately, my father refuses to listen to anything other than gospel or opera, so we've been driving in silence for over an hour.
My sister, Camilla, left the lights on last night when we stopped to sleep so when we got in the car this morning the battery was dead. Some big trucker gave us a jump, but the auto theft on the CD player got tripped so we couldn't even do Dad's regular albums, which at least we're all used to. On the other hand, Camilla sings harmony to all of those so maybe it's all just a big old blessing in disguise.
We left San Fran five days ago, and the four of us have been packed like sardines in this crappy rented Camry ever since. Dad says he's going to buy a new car when we get settled into the new house. Maybe this time we'll actually be in one spot long enough to get settled. We have a trailer attached to the back of the car with all our clothes and personal stuff. We sent the furniture ahead last week.
Becky saw me off. And Tommy. I cried a lot. The three of us hugged for, like, an hour. Dad kept beeping the car horn. Tommy had to help me in. I felt faint again. I've had that sensation all week.