As the crow flies, it’s almost six hundred miles between our home in Michigan and Spring City, Tennessee, where Earl’s parents lived and where — up the road — they are now buried together. As the road winds, it’s probably not much farther, but those who travel by car have it harder than any crow.
There is no direct route that offers a four-lane divided interstate all the way. There are the Smokey Mountains to cross, which isn’t that difficult for a vehicle like ours unless you get behind an eighteen-wheeler that’s losing speed to gravity. And regardless of which of several routes one takes, they all require maneuvering around a couple major cities, where traffic and rush hours impede speed. So you have to take it slowly . . . at least from the mental point of view.
Traveling this way to Spring City four days ago enabled us to gather our thoughts and make some plans for the funeral activities that lay ahead. As we drove south, we could use our cellphones to put our Michigan lives on hold and create the time to bury Earl’s mother. We could also keep in touch with other family members who were on their own journeys to join us. In a way, the car trip provided work space.
For now, the work is done, although we will have to return to handle various affairs. Tomorrow we plan to rise early and hit the road. And by the time we get to the Michigan State line, I imagine we will have reconnected with the other parts of our lives.
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