We left Ventura County with a whimper. We had been packing for three solid days and the mess never seemed to get any less. There were three plastic bags on the go at all times: The ‘Free for All’ bag, the ‘Rescue Mission’ bag and the trash bag. I walked out of work on Friday evening and leaving on the Monday became an impossible dream. We finally faced-up to reality and delayed the departure by 24 hours. Not much extra time but enough to stop our brains from exploding, or worse, one of us heading east and the other west. Unfortunately it meant forfeiting our motorcycle escort to Piru but the boys had to work on Tuesday. Nevertheless, our leave-taking was not without ceremony. The Farewell Committee wiped the Nutella from their cheeks and lined-up at the kitchen table to say good-bye. The committee chairwoman wore her purple wings.
My last glimpse of home was the bobbing Angel as she followed us down the sidewalk. The white curls became blurred in the sunlight and disappeared as we rounded the first corner.
It's not good-bye anyway. It's Auf Wiedersehen.
