Learn the musings of our intrepid author as she drives alone to a craft show, her first joint venture with her mother
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| The Open Road |
| It is six-thirty in the morning. I get into my mini-van and hit the road for Greenville, North Carolina, a town about an hour and fifteen minutes south of my house. The van is loaded down with furniture for children's rooms, acrylic paintings, and a bag packed for a weekend stay. I am heading for a holiday craft show; my mom is a doll maker, and I am a painter. This will be our first show together, and I am a bit nervous. What if we don't sell anything? What if we do sell everything? My mind is running a mile a minute. |
| The small, two-lane highway opens up before me. My headlights cut the dark. The overture to "The Nightmare Before Christmas" is playing on my iPod. It is a peaceful morning, and I am the only one out besides the school buses. I am reminded of junior high school and the hour and thirty minute ride from my house in Los Angeles to the magnet school on the hill by the beach. |
| I take a turn a bit too quickly, and I hear my painting shift in the back. I crane my neck to see if anything appears to be in danger of being damaged. Everything seems to be in place. What if no one likes my work? |
| The sky begins to lighten, and more cars join me heading south. I wonder where they are all headed. To work? To school? I wonder what they are thinking; what they are worried about on this particular dawn. |
| If you could drive anywhere, where would you go and why? |
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