Plowing through the wet gray
We headed south on U.S. 101,
Passport in hand for our intrepid son,
Hoping the greywacke would stay put.
When it started snowing near Weott
We had visions of slippery roads
And long lines of trucks and cars
Inching up unstable slopes.
Somewhere around Garberville
The grey lifted and sky lightened
Along with our hearts knowing
Our son would be off to Thailand.
He too will dive headfirst
Into the storm of uncertainty
That precedes all epic journeys,
Which at best are poorly planned.
As he headed off to board
I didn't have the heart to tell him
It would not be as good as he thought --
It would be better.