He long ago dubbed the day
before we leave on a trip
for the rushing, the packing,
the cleaning, the last-minuteness
before departure, when,

if we’re going to board a plane,
the imperative of packing tightly
results in late-night fussing
and too-little sleep.

But, when driving, say, to the coast,
eager to inhale restorative ocean,
I can mash three pillows into
a duffel to prop me up in sleep,

and extra snacks, because you
never know what craving might
hit you late at night,

and if we leave a bit later than
planned, seized by the sudden
need to water the plants on
the porch before we go,

so be it. And once we cross
the rubicon that is the mighty
Sacramento River, we know
that we are on our way to
familiar crab sandwiches
and clam chowder,

but we also know that
surprises await, the kind
found when we let go of
the woulda-coulda-shoulda
and embrace the why not?

When all the heebie-jeebies
evaporate until there’s
just us once again on
a tiny adventure in this
great one that we share.