April 16

Last night I said goodbye to my father.  I told him I was leaving.  "I don't know where I'm going," I told him, "and I don't know when I'm coming back."  He looked at me for a moment, but without skipping a beat said, "call when you get there."

My family is accustomed to me taking off because I've been doing it all of my life.  My mother likes to tell the story about when I was four.  I packed a Bloomingdales shopping bag and said goodbye.  My mother walked me to the door, kissed me and wished me a safe jounrney.

We lived ina remote area and there wasn't a store within five miles.  Though it was spring, there was a snow storm the day before.  My mother waited and then got in her car and followed my footprints.  When she caught up to me, she simlpy suggested I have dinner and start again in a dau or two.

I'm still not sure if I'm going to Florida to spend time at the beach, or if I'm going to San Antonio to spend time at the missions.  I don't have to decide until I get to Jacksonville, and I probably won't know until the moment comes when I have to choose.