Across Massachusetts, over New York and the GW Bridge, through the rain of the New Jersey Turnpike and finally rolling into the one-way cobblestone streets of the Old City District of Philadelphia.
Despite how many times we done it, it's still a trip for me to wake up in one state and fall asleep in another. On the nights when I fall into a really deep sleep, I wake up not knowing where I am the next day. Any time I get relatively close to getting used to a place, it's time to repack the car, throw the keys in the ignition and drive till the sun starts to fall on the horizon.
This morning we ate breakfast at an old diner just around the corner from us called Snow White. From one city to the next the diners all seem to be the same. The same motherly waitresses. The same stern expressionless cooks. The same greasy eggs and bacon. The one thing that's always different from city to city though is what hangs on the walls. In Hollywood it was autographed photos of actors. In Vegas it was pictures of the Strip. New York, the skyline and Brooklyn Bridge. Here it's Washington crossing the Delaware and Betsy Ross sewing the American Flag.
It's day 38 and the end of this trip is nearing, or is it the beginning that nears. In either case we only have 6 days left on this roadtrip. I try to grasp what this trip has meant, but last night I realized that it may be years before I can fully understand its magnitude on my life, so I drift back into the moment. Ah yes, Philly.
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