Crossing Over

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the warm molasses sunshiny spring day, but readying the Airstream seemed to take forever and a day. We started mid-morning, and I perpetually caught myself in a time lag of sorts (such as feeling like it should have been 11pm, not 11am), stumbling through the waking hours, zombie-like in my flow. It was late afternoon before we pulled out of the farm and well in to the evening before connecting with our nephew at the border town of Sarnia. So much for brunch :). At least we had a wonderful visit with lots of smiles.

The term crossing over, for some, means the metaphysical passing in to the ‘next life’, into the unknown. For me, crossing over tends to be the experience of entry in to the United States of America, specifically with our Airstream in tow. So much is unknown, with no guarantees that we’ll be accepted in to the pearly gates of the Customs Border Patrol abyss. Basically, it’s a crapshoot. Throw in feelings of complete powerlessness and anxiety at wanting to gain access to the Holy Land of warmer climates, comfortable winter skydiving, glorious beauty and opportunity. Home of the free … not so much. Regardless of the purity of my intentions and actions, I feel like an outright criminal with a list of sins longer than any Catholic Priest can condone. Come midnight when we rolled up for our turn at the border portal, the officer had us pull off in for inspection. Big sigh. Visions of last winter’s inspection flashed in to my mind, and I crossed my fingers that all would go smoothly. Luckily, we had an Officer with a lively sense of humour and nice personality. 2 hours later, we were on our way to Ohio, bone-tired but grateful to have crossed over for a few weeks of much-anticipated fun and friendship.

How slaDE managed to stay awake for 4 more hours, driving straight through to Jackson Center, I couldn’t fathom. I pretty much collapsed in to a deep sleep, awakened by the rising sun and arrival at the Airstream Terra Port (a full RV hookup staging point whilst at the factory). Melting in to bed, we slept soundly and deeply, drunk with the lack of sleep over the past 50 hours.

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