The first day was the toughest: mentally and emotionally. In the days leading up to my departure, it was hard to think about leaving everything. When the time finally arrived, it was as hard as I thought it would be. Part of me wanted to forget it, turn around and go back to bed.
In that first day, we figured out our driving schedule. My nameless Dodge Caliber (I refuse to call it The Blueberry) could go about 300 miles per tank so when we stopped for gas, we switched seats. It wasn't too terrible. I had a podcast and a playlist to listen to; Dad chose episodes of Dateline or 20/20 or whatever episodes of true crime stories about familial homicide he could find.