My dog is a road baby

Today we crushed through the last bits of South Dakota and then onto Minnesota and roly poly Wisconsin. Illinois snuck up without so much as a welcome sign, just bam! there we were, racing the L train through Chicago, and we veered left and right and payed an indecent amount in tolls, until finally we drifted into Indiana,  where we've decided to spend the night.

The dog has become a true road warrior. Today I recounted to her the states she's already been to in her young life. She's set paw in all of New England, all of the Northwest, all of the Southeast with the exception of Louisiana, and all the states in between. The only territory she has yet to explore is the Southwest, and I contend that without the luxury of removing her fur coat, she would be wise to avoid that area of the country until a terrifying and monumental shift in climate. Which may occur during her lifespan.

She listened attentively, sitting quietly upright in the passenger seat, turning her gaze between me and the road, as she does all day long.

I've been nothing but happy and relaxed these past five days, watching the states melt away, without so much of a moment of trepidation about my jolting decision to turn myself lose. Until I reached Chicago, and as foreign cities always do, the cold halogen glow of that sprawling, unfamiliar place sent a gloom of homesickness over the car. (This has nothing to do with Chicago, which is a bright, vivacious, eclectic city, the hometown of many of my friends and also the place where Amy Poehler and Tina Fey cut their comedic teeth, it's just that all cities that I pass through at night fill me with a terrible loneliness, and in a way it just makes sense.)

What really struck me though, was how I did not feel homesick for Seattle. Instead, I felt an overwhelming desire for Asheville, a place where I've never lived before.  

I have three friends in Asheville, and as I finally untangled myself from the net of highways running through Chicago, one of those friends called me. "Hey," said Kristen, "I'm on a road trip, and you're on a road trip, and I figured I'd call you and we could keep each other awake!"

It was the best possible moment for her to call. The sadness lifted, every minute bringing us closer to home, and then we were deep in Indiana and my road baby and I decided to pull off and find someplace where we could sleep.