Road Trips
Starting in Chester County and snaking its way through the continental US, our family van would make frequent stops at gas stations with odd exteriors and restaurants that claimed to have the largest steak in Texas. We’re natural tourists. All things campy, tacky, and over priced, our family has picked up as souvenirs. Acleptic items were always the first to come out of the suitcase raving home. Singing santas, seashells with googly eyes pasted on, anything and everything my grandmother would threaten to throw away upon seeing it. I took up my mother’s habits of nervously hoarded emergency band-AIDS, and those that read California in a curly font, were all the more appealing to me.
On top of this, I don’t believe in hotels, but rather motels. I learned this from …show more content…
The idea is that when someone is very ill, before they die, there’s one Last Good Day where things will be calm and clear, and then every day leading up to their death is just the prelude to The Last Bad Day. The Last Bad Day is much, much worse than The Last Good Day can ever be good. But I have to hear about The Last Good Day so frequently, that I fear that the people who say it think it’s their love child, conceived and birthed in some spectacular fashion. And I don’t believe in The Last Good Day. The real last day, where I was happy with my father is back in the Spring of ‘94 when he sat with me and my infant son under a tree and he told me that he loved me. That was the day I stopped being angry at him and mom (they didn’t talk to me for 3 years because of my Actual Love Child Born and Conceived in Some Spectacular Fashion and how I wouldn’t get married) and stopped looking for an apology. That was the real Last Good Day. No day in a hospital where the nurses stay at bay or he can walk again will be anywhere near the closure I received years
Starting in Chester County and snaking its way through the continental US, our family van would make frequent stops at gas stations with odd exteriors and restaurants that claimed to have the largest steak in Texas. We’re natural tourists. All things campy, tacky, and over priced, our family has picked up as souvenirs. Acleptic items were always the first to come out of the suitcase raving home. Singing santas, seashells with googly eyes pasted on, anything and everything my grandmother would threaten to throw away upon seeing it. I took up my mother’s habits of nervously hoarded emergency band-AIDS, and those that read California in a curly font, were all the more appealing to me.
On top of this, I don’t believe in hotels, but rather motels. I learned this from …show more content…
The idea is that when someone is very ill, before they die, there’s one Last Good Day where things will be calm and clear, and then every day leading up to their death is just the prelude to The Last Bad Day. The Last Bad Day is much, much worse than The Last Good Day can ever be good. But I have to hear about The Last Good Day so frequently, that I fear that the people who say it think it’s their love child, conceived and birthed in some spectacular fashion. And I don’t believe in The Last Good Day. The real last day, where I was happy with my father is back in the Spring of ‘94 when he sat with me and my infant son under a tree and he told me that he loved me. That was the day I stopped being angry at him and mom (they didn’t talk to me for 3 years because of my Actual Love Child Born and Conceived in Some Spectacular Fashion and how I wouldn’t get married) and stopped looking for an apology. That was the real Last Good Day. No day in a hospital where the nurses stay at bay or he can walk again will be anywhere near the closure I received years