Day 24: Sept 26: Autumn Activities

I vaguely remember Kasey taking Tad out while I drifted in and out of sleep. I don’t remember dreams the way he does: he can give a TED Talk about his. Mine are rarely retained long enough for me to remember after I am awake for long. But Tad has been laser‑focused on the bunnies and cats near Lynn’s house, so my brain apparently decided to merge them. I dreamed up a “cabbit.” Dreams are interesting. I never know whether they mean anything or if it’s just mental housekeeping. I am not sure I would know reality if I could remember them for longer than a few minutes. How would I know what was a dream unless they disappear like snapchat. Maybe that’s the president’s issue. He doesn't know reality and keeps showing us images from his dreams. 

Anyway, the Internet is full of Cabbit pictures so this one is close to what I dreamed except the cat and rabbit were all black.

Emerging from my slumber I found coffee being offered from Kasey's outstretched hand. A welcome sight. Not long after a tap at the door and Lynn was waiting for morning conference. The therapy dog, Tad, was there to give positive feedback and canine encouragement.

Soon, she had to get back to attend to Randy and the dogs, Frankie and Gidget. 

We heard from the rest of the family that an Autumn adventure at an apple orchard and pumpkin patch were in mind. Alice's fever from yesterday had disappeared and she had successfully kicked the bug. First stop was the apple orchard (Sunrise River Farm) in Wyoming, MN about an hour away. They allowed dogs but with free roaming chickens, I opted to be free from getting my arm yanked off by a dog that likes to make things run. There were probably some rabbits around too.

There was lots of activities and a few shops. Bikes for the tikes, vendors and a gift shop/bakery. We tried the apple bars. They were pretty good.

A booth where you could make your own planter arrangement. Nice idea.

The kids had fun petting the rabbits and the kitties that were all up for adoption. Funny how the Cabbit theme keeps coming up. The rabbits were black too.

This is a farm and they have rules. 

Good rules.

Picking apples yourself is expensive here and costs about a dollar an apple. You get a small plastic bag for $25 which you can fill. Kasey filled his a little too much and broke the bag. He went back for a replacement. The first apple type inside the gated area was Sweet 16. I picked one off the ground that had no blemishes. It was the best apple I have had. Crisp, sweet, and juicy. Some apples have tart skin, but this one was perfect. I had a couple more of different varieties as the others picked their bags full. None compared to the first one. Even the honey crisp variety was not quite as perfect. 3 apples and I was full.

Next we headed for the pumpkin patch down the road about a half mile. Lendt's Pumpkin Patch also allowed dogs so Tad was allowed to attend the activities. 

Lots of things for kids to do. Kasey bought a huge bucket of popcorn that kept spilling out. He insisted on taking it on the balance beam. Alice is quite the gymnast and showed us her abilities. Nice to see she is feeling better.

There was plenty for the kids to do and they had no trouble exploring this pumpkin farm. Mini basketball, bean toss, and face painting. After a few minutes there, it seemed that it might rain. A few sprinkles sent the normally hardy Minnesotans running for cover as if it was a monsoon. I found it a little amusing and just put my hood up. Families started leaving and before long, it seemed that we had the place to ourselves. This family doesn't let a little rain stop the fun.

It was fun looking at all the varieties of pumpkin and squash.

On the way home, we stopped at the old hardware store in Pine City. We only had a few minutes before closing. I love their inexpensive metal works. 

This one says 1913.

The metal works are door knockers, key hangers, coat hangers, and wall hangings. Fun.

A quick check in with Diana Pace back in Roseburg and we topped the evening with Rummikub and ice cream.  A nice day.

Day 23 Being Together

Day 23 — Friday, September 25, 2026

Being Together 

I didn’t sleep particularly well Thursday night. My mind was stuck in a loop.

We are still trying to resolve some paperwork issues with the FCC involving KQUA Community Radio. It has been quite a challenge, and I seem to be the link connecting the engineers who “built” the full-power station, the antenna manufacturer, and the other bit players in what sometimes feels like a poorly directed slapstick comedy.

Hopefully, after three years of frustration, a resolution to some of these issues is finally coming into focus.

It has been a three-year nightmare for me personally, but through all of it I have never lost my belief in what KQUA can become. I remain convinced that KQUA Community Radio will ultimately be a tremendous asset for communities throughout the Umpqua.

Those thoughts were circling through my head from about 2:00 until 4:00 in the morning.

Our Minnesota adventure, meanwhile, has settled into a bit of a holding pattern. Alice has been sick all week. Lynn is tied up caring for Randy, and Ashley and company are two hours south, immersed in the daily rhythms of their own lives.

And that is okay.

We are very comfortable going with the flow and simply being here.

I spent much of the morning working on a City of Roseburg tourism grant that I thought was due next Friday. It turns out it isn’t due until the end of October, which was welcome news. The grant request itself is only $7,500, but it is an important piece of a project with a budget of roughly $100,000, so getting it right matters.

I finished the grant around noon and then had a somewhat tense Zoom meeting. During the meeting, another team member suggested that I needed to do a better job, in my role as Executive Director, of leading our process for managing potential volunteers at Umpqua Watersheds.

There is truth in that. We do need a better process.

Still, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, or needed to hear at that particular moment.

I listened, suggested some ways we could begin making progress, and gradually the conversation shifted into a more productive discussion about Umpqua Watersheds operations. Forty-five minutes later, we had some ideas for moving forward.

Then it was back to KQUA.

I talked with our radio engineer about changes to FCC paperwork we have been working on since February. That led to another follow-up with a contractor whose information we needed. I wrote an email, sent along the necessary paperwork, and waited.

And finally, perhaps, the problem that had kept me awake between 2:00 and 4:00 that morning was moving toward resolution.

By the time I wrapped up my Umpqua Watersheds and KQUA responsibilities, it was nearly 4:00 in the afternoon.

Real life and motorhome life were waiting.

We needed to make the 15-minute trip into Mora to dump our holding tanks, fill the freshwater tank, find propane, do laundry, and pick up a few groceries. While I was finishing my phone calls, Janice began getting the motorhome ready to travel.

We both took showers—might as well put a little something extra into the holding tanks before visiting the free dump station at the fairgrounds, then unplugged the motorhome and headed for Mora.

Tad assumed his position in the front seat, excited by the possibility that another grand adventure was underway.

I dropped Janice and our laundry at the laundromat and headed over to the fairgrounds for our weekly sani-dump. I emptied the tanks, filled the motorhome with fresh water, and then went looking for propane.

Unfortunately, it was after 5:00, and I couldn’t find anyone still open who could fill our tank.

So I headed back to help Janice with the laundry.

I opened Google Maps and clicked on Janice’s picture to guide me back to the laundromat, five minutes away. Those of you who know me understand that getting turned around is something of a specialty of mine.

Following the map, I drove along the frontage road toward the little icon representing Janice.

But instead of finding her inside the laundromat, I found her standing outside talking with a small group of about 15 people holding “No Kings” signs.

She saw the motorhome coming and waved at me with an impish, “Look what I found!” grin on her face.

One of Lynn’s neighbors from Klondike Loop was there with his dog, and he and Janice had been chatting. The small group was friendly and welcoming. They told us they gather there every Friday to demonstrate in support of democracy.

Nearby was a man who had arrived on a motorcycle. He was dressed almost entirely in black, coat, pants, fingerless gloves and a face covering, with sunglasses and a backward ball cap. He was recording the gathering with his cell phone. Members of the group told us that he regularly appears during their Friday demonstrations and said they believed his presence and filming were intended to intimidate them.

It was an unexpected little slice of life in Mora, Minnesota.

Janice eventually climbed aboard the motorhome, and we headed off to do our shopping. She called around looking for propane while we drove. Everyone she spoke with was friendly and apologetic, but no propane was to be had that evening.

We crossed the county road, retrieved our clean laundry, and headed back to Lynn’s place on Klondike Loop.

By then, the workday was finally behind us.

We set up camp again. Janice built a fire and took Tad for a walk while I made dinner. Soon we were sitting beside the fire eating hot dogs, relaxing, talking, and occasionally checking our phones to catch up on what was happening in the larger world.

And then the world became much smaller.

Just us.

The fire crackling beside us.

Tad nearby.

The tall Minnesota pines silhouetted across the dirt road.

A nearly full moon rose and illuminated the evening sky above the trees. Somewhere in the darkness, a Barred Owl began calling, its familiar voice carrying through the autumn night.

After a day spent worrying about FCC paperwork, writing grants, navigating difficult conversations, solving problems 1,800 miles away, emptying holding tanks, chasing propane, washing clothes, buying groceries, and unexpectedly encountering a little Friday-evening demonstration in Mora, there really wasn’t anywhere else we needed to be.

There was no schedule to keep.

No adventure we needed to manufacture.

No problem that had to be solved before bedtime.

There was simply Janice and me, Tad, a campfire, an owl, the moon, and an autumn Friday evening in Minnesota.

Sometimes the best part of an adventure isn’t going somewhere.

Sometimes it is simply being together.

Day 22: Sept 24, 2026. Lunch with the big kids

Kasey drew the short straw this morning and took Tad out for his bathroom break while I stayed tucked comfortably in bed. At least it wasn’t as cold as yesterday. Before long, it was time to head into the city for brunch with Kasey’s kids, Nick and Ash, and Ash’s fiancé, Orion. We’d eaten at this same restaurant last year, so it felt familiar in that cozy, cyclical way.

Conversation flowed easily, bouncing from raising children to wedding plans to work and whatever else surfaced. Midway through, I got a call from Jody back home in Roseburg so I stepped away from the dining table. An out of town visitor was having trouble with a motorhome slider. Something jammed near the gears, leaving it stuck open. I tried to picture the cramped space where the obstruction must be lodged, but there wasn’t much I could do from Minnesota. I passed along the name of the repair shop we used for our slide issue and hoped it would help.

When I returned to the table, I discovered that Nick had swiped my utensils while I was gone. I’m fairly certain he’s pulled this stunt before, which is why I had tucked them near my coffee cup. He’s a sneaky one, that Nick. After a bit of playful scolding, we shifted our attention to the enormous pancakes being delivered around the table. I swear they must use a forklift to flip them. I ordered the Senior pancake, which still covered the entire plate—and even then, I couldn’t finish it. Eventually Nick had to head back to work, and Kasey and I made our way to the mall to get her phone screen repaired. A kind young man named Saif replaced it for over $200, which made me grateful I’d lived with my cracked screen for three years before switching to a foldable phone. At one point I guessed his accent was Indian, an error he corrected with a firm but friendly “No! I am from Bangladesh.” "Ah, okay" I said. He said "You know where Bangladesh is?" I said "Yes, generally." Then gesturing with my hands, the left one representing India and the right one representing Bangladesh, I said "It is on the east side of India."

Bangladesh is the most populated country in the world. It is a country surrounded by India on 3 sides. The borders of modern Bangladesh were established with the partition of Bengal between India and Pakistan during the Partition of India in August 1947, when the region became East Pakistan as part of the newly formed State of Pakistan following the end of the British rule in the region. The Proclamation of Bangladeshi Independence in March 1971 led to the nine-month-long Bangladesh Liberation War, which culminated in the emergence of the People's Republic of Bangladesh. Independence was declared in 1971.

We thanked him for his work and Kasey managed to slip in that we value immigrants and appreciate the contribution that different cultures bring to the US.

The mall is very sparse. Very few businesses are open and several of the shops are vacant. I suppose the popularity of indoor malls is fading at least until winter. They did have a couple of cool murals with butterfly wings for our amusement.

Back at the motorhome, we waited for the rain to pass before lighting a fire in the raised pit out back. The evening settled in gently as we sat outside, talking while the flames crackled around us. The rain never arrived to spoil anything, and we finally turned in as the fire dwindled to embers. I lay in bed wide awake for hours, turning over a few stubborn conundrums in my mind, hoping they’d loosen their grip before morning.

Day 21: Celebrating Family

Day 21: Celebrating Family

The day started with a wonderful, and emotional, surprise.

After sharing our Day 18 blog about my cousin Tom, the 1973 WCCO-TV series Living with Death, and the beautiful letter reporter Don Kladstrup sent to the Nelson family after Tommy died, my cousin Terry sent me a Facebook message.

She had found an article Don and his wife, Petie, wrote nine years ago about the series and Don’s special connection with Tom. The article, titled Lost for Words, brought a flood of emotions rushing back.

https://medium.com/almost-home/tongue-tied-c64ffc686b4f

In the article, Don looked back on the months he spent with 17-year-old Tommy in 1972 while reporting Living with Death. Tommy had agreed to let Don and a WCCO cameraman document his battle with cancer in the hope that sharing what he was going through might somehow help someone else. Don wrote about the bond they developed and about being there when Tommy died. He also recalled one regret that had stayed with him through the years: knowing how much Tommy admired Minnesota Twins great Harmon Killebrew, Don wished he had arranged for the two of them to meet.

Reading Don’s words all these years later was overwhelming. Tommy had died more than half a century ago, but here was someone outside our family who still remembered him and had been deeply affected by knowing him.

I found contact information associated with the article and sent Don an email, introducing myself and explaining that I was Tommy’s cousin.

And this morning, Mr. Kladstrup responded!

He was happy to hear from me and to learn about my connection to Tom. He and his wife, Petie, now live in Paris. Don said he would check to see whether he still has a copy of the Living with Death series and will also contact CBS News Archives to see if they can locate one.

After all these years, there is suddenly a possibility that we might actually see Tommy again, not just in photographs or through our memories, but moving and speaking in a television program filmed during the final months of his life.

I can hardly describe what that possibility means to me and to our family.

Later in the morning, Janice and I drove about an hour south to St. Anthony, where my cousins Pam and Diane live.

After Aunt Jo’s home was sold last summer, Pam decided to move to North Carolina, near where my niece Nicole and her husband, Scott, live. Diane, meanwhile, bought an apartment in a 55+ community and absolutely loves it.

When Pam couldn’t find a place in North Carolina that felt right, another unit became available in Diane’s building. Pam decided to buy it and move back home to Minnesota.

Like Diane, she couldn’t be happier with her new home. The building is wonderful and even has guest apartments available for visiting family and friends.

We went out to lunch together and, as we have for nearly seven decades, thoroughly enjoyed simply being together, talking, laughing, remembering and catching up on one another’s lives.

And once again, I found myself appreciating how naturally Janice fits into my family. She joins the conversations, stories and laughter as though she has been part of them all along. There is something very special about watching your wife and best friend become so completely woven into the family you grew up with.

Pam and Diane were especially excited to hear about Don Kladstrup’s response and the possibility that we might locate the program featuring Tommy.

I sure hope we can find it.

Pam, Janice and I took Tad for a walk around the neighborhood. My Dad lived in St. Anthony when I was in college and I spent a lot of time bicycling around the area, including the area that Diane and Pam live.

From there, we returned to Lynn’s. She is working hard to establish a stable routine with her husband, Randy. I worry about both of them and the challenges they are facing, and I’m grateful that being here in Minnesota has given us some time together.

That evening brought another generation of family.

We met Nick, Alyssa and the kids for dinner. Cade and Alice had both gotten sick following Cade’s third birthday party on Saturday, but fortunately they were feeling well enough to venture out for dinner at Alice’s favorite restaurant, The Garage, in Pine City.

Afterward, we went to Sullivan Park, where I played with the kids while Janice kept Tad entertained.

Watching the grandchildren run and play, I thought again about how much family had filled this entire day: Tommy and the memories of a cousin I lost so many years ago; Pam and Diane, cousins who have shared nearly seven decades of my life; my sister Lynn; my son Nick and Alyssa; and now this newest generation racing around a park on a beautiful Minnesota evening.

Pine City is an idyllic little town about an hour north of Minneapolis, and it seemed especially beautiful as we headed home.

The sun was setting, illuminating leaves that seem to change a little more with every passing day. Bright green still dominates the landscape, but now patches of brilliant red, yellow and orange appear among the trees as if someone has taken a paintbrush to the Northland.

Fall is very much in the air.

Even beneath a brilliant blue sky, the sunlight seems softer now, somehow filtered through the changing season. Summer is slipping away and autumn is announcing its arrival one colorful branch at a time.

It seemed a fitting ending to a day spent celebrating something else that changes with the passing years but never really leaves us.

Family.

Those who are still beside us. Those who came after us. And those, like Tommy, who left far too soon but remain forever woven into the fabric of who we are.

Another wonderful day in the Northland.

Day 20: Sept 22, 2026. A day of rest. Pine City MN

As the temperature continued its overnight slide toward morning, we stayed safely tucked beneath the covers. Outside, an aggressive overhead light that never seems to shut off beamed down right behind our motorhome. I suggested that we just pretend it was the moon, but while Kasey's usually the unflappable one, by daybreak even he had the window covered.

​Tad wanted out at "Oh Dark Thirty," as usual. Since I was already awake, I took him out for a quick pit stop; emphasis on quick, since it was still dark and cold. A few hours later, right around dawn, he was asking for round two. The air probably hadn't warmed up yet, but as I stood there, I grinned, remembering my heated vest. I tossed it on, clicked the battery, and instant warmth flooded through my back and torso. I bought it for exactly these moments.

​Once Tad took care of business, we returned to the motorhome where I lit the burner under the coffee pot and crawled back into bed, hopping out again a few minutes later to shut it off after it had percolated. My blankets must have kept me a little too warm, because by the time I actually got around to pouring the coffee, it was barely lukewarm.

After breakfast, we sat outside and soaked up the sun until we got too warm opting to peel off a few layers. 

Tad was eager to inspect his new territory, on high alert for the local cats and bunnies darting through the brush. The neighborhood consists of just a few houses on a loop drive, but traffic is still a concern, so we have to keep a close eye on him with all the activity and opportunities for mischief. I opted to put him on an expandable leash to save myself from constantly chasing him down—and it was a good thing I did. A neighbor happened to be walking his dog, and Tad apparently didn't like the look or posture of the animal because he suddenly charged right at it. He made it about halfway before I yelled "NO!" and the leash abruptly arrested his progress, putting an end to the showdown. Why he thought it was a wise move to challenge a Rottweiler, I will never know. It completely caught me off guard since Tad isn't an aggressive dog by nature. I think he temporarily lost his mind!.

​Eventually, we both settled into our computer work; Kasey drafting his blog posts while I dove into tasks for Umpqua Watersheds. Kasey’s blog writing tends toward nostalgic, family-focused, and deeply philosophical themes, drawing from a reservoir of old memories; his posts are naturally optimistic and entertaining. Mine, driven by an urgent concern for the environment, take a darker turn.

​So many foundational environmental safeguards are being quietly dismantled, and the pace only seems to pick up as the midterms draw closer. Protections I thought were secure are wiped away with the stroke of a pen, no public discussion, no national debate. A lifelong passion for protecting wildlife feels reduced to one person's callous disregard for the living world around us. My sense of despair over it can be overwhelming. Kasey prefers not to dwell on it because it’s depressing, but for me, putting it into words and documenting it feels essential. Even if no one reads these entries but us, at least a record exists of how it felt to live through this moment in our democracy.

​Reading Kasey’s reflections on family makes me think of my own. I so appreciate the ones that get it. (You know who you are.) I wonder how some of the more conservative ones view what's happening. They might not share my specific passions, but we all have a stake in things that affect the common good. I don't have children in childcare, for instance, or need to go to college, but I fully support making it affordable because I understand its value to society. Above all, we can't sustain any of these systems without a healthy planet; environmental quality isn't an elective issue.

​Bedrock laws that took decades of scientific work to craft are being undone in minutes. That isn't how a healthy democracy functions. So I spend hours filing public comments and encouraging others to do the same: to engage, to vote, to participate. If it motivates even one person, the effort is worth it. It’s exhausting, but exhaustion is part of the strategy. Our country isn't a corporation, and running it like one ignores the immense ecological and environmental costs that businesses routinely write off.

​My advocacy work was paused when Lynn dropped by for a quick visit before returning to care for her husband, Randy. For so many people, daily survival takes every ounce of energy they have; playing watchdog over the federal government simply can't be a priority. People deserve to trust that their government is acting in their best interest, not plundering public resources while they try to get by.

​In the end, it’s good that Kasey can focus his energy on the nuances of human relationships, just as it’s good that I can keep my eye on the broader policy landscape. The contrast works for us.

​Later, Lynn called to ask if we could run into town to pick up a prescription for her. Tad was so thrilled by the prospect of a ride that he looked ready to take the wheel himself. The moment the vehicle door opened, he bounded inside, eager for the trip.

​After finishing the errand, we stopped by the local dog park. Within seconds of arriving, Kasey managed to drop his phone face-down on the ground, earning his very first cracked screen after four years of ownership. Not a bad run—it had taken me less than a month to do the exact same thing to mine.

Tad had a great time running around, though he had the park entirely to himself. We stepped in as playmates, trying to coach him in the fine art of high-jumping.

We returned to our motorhome and delivered the prescriptions to Lynn and began to think of dinner. With our propane running a bit low, we chose a dinner menu that would let us heat the rig and cook at the same time: blackened salmon and rice, paired with a Pokegama Porter for Kasey and a peach cider for me.

Tad was delighted to find the salmon skins mixed into his dish. Afterwards, we settled in for a few games of cribbage. Kasey is a sharp player and I’m still mastering it, but he’s a patient teacher. Every game tonight was competitive right down to the wire.

We finished off the evening with Mexican chocolate cookies for dessert. All in all, a good day.

Day 19 Homecoming, Monday, 9/21/26

We all woke up early knowing we would be breaking camp today, but we eased into the morning, wanting to savor each remaining moment.

Our time with Cece had been special, and cathartic. It had been far too long since we had spent this kind of time together, with too many miles separating us.

Campfires are good for the soul.

There is something about sitting around a fire that gives us permission to slow down, to relax, release, remember and reflect on our lives, on the years behind us and those still waiting ahead.

During our days together, we made a pledge to make the most of the time we have and not let so many years pass between these moments again. We are already making plans for more grand adventures together in the months and years ahead.

Before leaving, we took one last three-mile hike.

Taddy, of course, performed his usual trail maneuver. At one point we all thought he was somewhere ahead of us, only to have him suddenly come gliding past us from behind, full of glee and completely absorbed in his quest to discover whatever hidden secrets the trail might hold.

That dog knows how to embrace an adventure.

We returned to camp and finished packing. Before long, Cece climbed into the Blue Dart—my nickname for her Honda—and headed toward Fargo. In a couple of days, she will make another nine-hour drive to Chicago, where she will reunite with friends for an annual retreat.

We watched her leave with full hearts, grateful for the days we had shared.

Then it was our turn.

We loaded the bikes onto the motorhome. I headed for the showers while Janice finished securing everything inside for the trip. We stopped at the dump station, filled our fresh-water tank, and soon the Chariot of the Dogs was rolling again.

We followed much of the same route I had driven on Sunday, zigzagging our way through the Minnesota countryside until we reached my sister Lynn's house, where we are always welcomed with open arms.

Coming here always feels like a homecoming.

My mom used to say, "Home is always where your mom is."

Mom has been gone for nearly seven years now, and being with Lynn is perhaps my closest connection to her. My sister and I have shared a lifetime together, and I love her dearly.

We pulled in, got ourselves situated, and Lynn came outside to greet us with hugs.

"I love you sooo much!" she said.

And I knew we were home.

Life has not been easy for Lynn and her husband, Randy. He has struggled with severe health problems for years. Diabetes eventually resulted in the loss of both of his legs, and complications from the disease led to several months in a rehabilitation center.

Sadly, Randy is also struggling with the early stages of dementia. He frequently becomes disoriented and sometimes has difficulty expressing what he is trying to say.

He was finally able to come home a couple of weeks ago, and Lynn is now working hard to establish routines while caring for him.

Lynn is a caregiver by nature and one of the most compassionate people I know. She fights fiercely for the people she loves.

She was able to spend some time with us today, although understandably much of her attention needs to be with Randy. That's perfectly fine with us. We feel completely at home here, and my heart is happy simply knowing that I am near my sister.

We had planned to have dinner with Nick and his family, who live about 25 minutes away, but the kids came down with a bug, so those plans were postponed.

Instead, Janice and I headed into Pine City for a few supplies and decided to investigate the new grocery store in tow, Aldi.

Neither of us had ever been in an Aldi before. We liked that the are committed to doing things to protect the environment like reducing packaging and encouraging recycling.

We soon discovered one of its little quirks: you need to deposit a quarter to unlock a shopping cart, and you get your quarter back when you return the cart to the rack.

There was just one problem.

Neither of us had a quarter.

Consequently, our shopping expedition was limited to whatever we could carry in our arms.

On the way out, however, I noticed two abandoned carts sitting near the entrance that hadn't been returned.

Opportunity knocked.

I handed Janice everything I was carrying, returned both carts and collected the two quarters.

Fifty cents!

At this rate, we may have discovered a new funding source for the Grand Adventure. With gasoline costs taking a bigger bite out of our travel budget amid the Trump war with Iran, perhaps we'll start stopping at Aldi stores across America in search of abandoned shopping carts.

Smirk...

We returned to Lynn's, made burrito bowls for dinner and played a couple of games of cribbage.

Later, I took Taddy for an evening walk around Klondike Loop and pushed past my goal of 10,000 steps for the day, a milestone Janice had already blown through long before me.

Eventually, we crawled into bed and listened to a couple more chapters of our audiobook before sleep overtook us.

It had been a day of departures and arrivals, of saying goodbye to one person we love and coming home to another.

As I drifted off to sleep, I felt grateful.

Grateful for Cece and the campfires we shared.

Grateful for Lynn and the bond between a brother and sister that has survived all the miles and years of our lives.

Grateful for Janice beside me, Taddy nearby, and this little rolling home that keeps carrying us from one person we love to the next.

Tonight, the Grand Adventure didn't require a spectacular landscape or some unexpected discovery along a dusty road.

Sometimes the grandest adventure of all is simply coming home.