Until the End of Time
It had happened, an overseas trip canceled only to be followed by a road trip also canceled, and now an alternative, a last-minute decision to once again make the ten-hour drive to Sedona, Arizona if only to get away" we told each other. Granted we were far luckier than most. We weren't driving to flee a fire, or driving aimlessly because our home had been destroyed and we now had nowhere else to go, or that we were unable to "get away" because we were wondering if we would even have a home because we couldn't be certain of making our rent or mortgage. Instead we were among the lucky few, able to just drive somewhere in order to temporarily recharge, to lose ourselves in the vastness of the land, the miles and miles and miles of roads and horizons. The British writer James Parker, in a short essay for The Atlantic , described his feelings on a similar drive this way: ...an overwhelming (for a Brit) apprehension of scale, a kind of horizontal vertigo at th