Favorite memory? Isn't that kind of like choosing a favorite puppy? Or favorite child? Or favorite hair on your head? It's nearly impossible. So instead of choosing my favorite memory, I'll choose one that is close to it ... I believe. And it's an ongoing memory ....
Dear Mom,
Our roadtrips are awesome. Really and truly. I mean, not many people (at least that I know) would be willing to spend 17 hours in the car with their mother. But we did it ... multiple times. And both of us have survived.
Roadtripping with you isn't a chore. You're relaxed about music, and talk about anything (and sometimes everything). And although I would have gone with you either way, to Baton Rouge and to the colleges, it was certainly nice to not dread the car rides, even though we did get lost in Rhode Island .... somehow.
One roadtrip that jumps out at me is last year during midwinter break. Sammy came down with us, but that's not what made it special. It was waking up in Fultondale, AL on Valentine's Day morning and finding special cards slid under our door. It was the fact that even though we were in transit, and couldn't really celebrate in a normal way (Chuck E. Cheese anyone?), you still found a way to make it special for us.
The whole reason why we had to roadtrip kind of sucked. Ideally, we wouldn't have had to. But we did, and I'm not sure about you, but I'd do it again. And again. And again. I love being your navigator: I-75 to 71 to 65 to 20/59 to 12 to 10. I still remember the directions.
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