The original is displayed below. I will be sure to link my Finish the Sentence Friday - Repost of Everything felt perfect the time that...so that host, Kristi Campbell of Finding Ninee and co-host Kenya G. Johnson of Sporadically Yours and other followers of this blog hop can find my post and others' posts.
Today I'm linking up with Finish the Sentence Friday: Everything felt perfect the time that...
Everything felt perfect the time that our family was on their way moving from drought stricken California north to a place that had more rain. It didn't start off feeling perfect though. I'm not even sure I grasped that we were moving and why.
On moving day I'd been dropped off at school the same as usual. My second grade teacher had been notified that my Dad would be picking me up a little early, so I didn't need to ride the bus home. When Dad got there, he told me to tell my teacher goodbye, because we were moving! There were no individual goodbyes to any close friends, just out the door and on our way.
First we stopped at a nearby town to say goodbye to my grandparents. This is when it got even harder. My Grandma had taken care of me different times when my Dad had farm related errands to do, and my Mom was at work. I think Grandma probably took care of my younger brother also. Grandma had no daughters, so I suspect she may have been partial to me, or at least that was the feeling I had. Now her only grandchildren were moving to another state. My grandparents were getting up in years and unable to travel and knew it would be quite a while before they saw us again. I had never seen my Grandma cry, but I saw her tears that day as we departed.
We were traveling northward in the Spring, a nice time of the year to be traveling. It wasn't too cold or too hot, and I'm sure that my parents were hoping they wouldn't have to drive on snowy roads. Dad drove the pickup and was hauling a small two-wheeled cattle trailer behind him. The trailer was packed not with cattle, but with things that couldn't be put in the Bekins Moving Van. Mom drove the car. I was in the car with Mom. I think that my brother may have been riding in the pickup with my Dad, but I don't actually remember.
After we got on our way, everything felt perfect, kind of exciting and adventurous, especially as we got out of the very flat land where we had lived. As we began navigating up the mountains on the very winding road north of Shasta Dam, I was kind of scared looking out the window and seeing a river far below. In that period of time, there was no freeway, just a two-lane narrow road without painted lines on the shoulders. There are more protective railings now too than there were then. We had to drive a lot slower as we tried to drive through the mountainous area. Suddenly, as Dad went around a curve, he blew the right tire on the trailer. The tire headed directly toward our car before careening down the side of the mountain! Dad was somehow able to safely come to a stop, as did Mom. Both were visibly shaken. What could have caused a very imperfect ending was not to be. We were perfectly watched over, and I think we all realized what could have happened, but didn't.