Houston

     Every year, from the time Sam was 5 months old, the three of us have gone to Houston after school was out for summer.  Actually, we don't go to Houston.  We go to Lake Jackson, Clute, Brazoria or Rosharon, wherever the kids live at the time.  Those places are about 45 minutes southwest of Houston, and hardly anyone knows where they are, so we always said Houston.  This summer, the three of us were going to meet Baby Lila for the first time.  But then May 22nd happened.  Sam and I decided to go so we could get away from Odessa for a few days.  Sam got his driver's license the Thursday before we were to leave.  I wasn't looking forward to the drive.  It's about a ten hour drive.  Usually I would drive about a third of the way and Jerry would drive the rest of the way.  This trip I drove the entire trip because of the extreme high winds and I didn't want Sam to get stressed.
     Jerry and I thoroughly loved the drive.  Most people sleep through it (well hopefully not the driver), but we enjoyed the beautiful scenery, the music we would play, the conversations, the getting out of town and getting closer to kids and grandkids.  This trip was the worst of my life.  As long as I focused on the road, I was okay.  But, then we got to San Antonio.  We have gone to San Antonio every summer since Sam was two.  Every year, we would go to Sea World, the Alamo, riverwalk, zoo, ride the train, etc.  I didn't cry out loud because I didn't want to upset Sam.  But my chest was so tight, I could hardly breathe.  We finally made it through San Antonio and the rest of the way to Brazoria.  And when we got there, as soon as we drove up, we heard the yells, "They're here!" and we were enveloped in loving hugs.