Illinois or bust

I would like to tell you all about my recent unexpected trip to Rock Island, Illinois. My oldest daughter decided to call this her home and has been living there for over two years now. She called Saturday night, needing Momma. I quickly tied up a few loose ends and made arrangements to make the 800-mile, 12-hour — if you're lucky — trip. My husband inspected my car, and he even cleaned it out for me. I left about 10 p.m. Sunday night.

This was my third trip to this midwestern river town, but this time I drove mostly overnight and I have to admit, as I set out late that evening I was more anxious than I had been on past departures. Perhaps it was the idea of the current social climate in our nation; maybe it was COVID-19; but I was more apprehensive on this trip. I felt unsure of what I may encounter on the road ahead. This uneasy feeling was new to me. I like to travel; I like to see new things; I don't mind driving long distances. But this trip felt different.