“Papa, I can always tell we’re about to go on a trip because my tummy tells me so.”
We’d been on the road for no more than ten minutes. The car swerved and pulled to the right. A semi-truck had passed on the left. The accelerator tried to keep things moving forward.
My tummy had agreed. I could feel every bounce of the road. The spring, shocks, and tires did a great job dampening the breaks in the road. The trio, however, made the ride like a camel in desert.
The car rides high on two axles. As a family we were perched atop swaying in the March wind. Like the truck before, the wind tossed us as we rode down the highway. Swerving, bouncing, and breezing down the road was going to be the course for the day.
We are destined to part far away. It is Spring Break. The road was a ticket to a foreign land. The end of the road promised something new and different.
This is what the tummy was saying. “You are going to be a different person when you come home. Your experiences will teach you new things about who you are and where you come from. Who are you?”
The lengthy conversation is what makes it feel weird. Normally the tummy just says “I’m hungry.” Rarely is this part of the body so insightful.
The beginning of a trip is like the first hill of a roller coaster. This car ride is no different than the ride in the amusement park.
There is a bump in the road. “What was that tummy? What did you say?”