afflated.

uh-fley-did; adjective

having inspiration; inspired.

The clock on the oven blinks 7:03. 7:03. 7:03. The water is turned off but I only remember after I squirt soap in my hands. There’s a bookmark in the August 8th page of the 2006 Guidepost. I read it and only have a few tears form in my eyes. My grandparent’s place in Spruce Pine on Deer Park Lake has been my favorite spot for years. It feels eerily empty today as I’m only picking up my gloves and electric blanket from the basement. Usually there’d be cousins running around the ping pong table playing Hardin Hardcore Ping Pong. Aunts and uncles would be sitting upstairs in rocking chairs or on the floor or by the fire talking and laughing. Grandma would be going from one conversation to the next while checking the macaroni and cheese in the oven in between. Grandpa would count the ducks on the lake. I would been smiling big taking it all in.

So I sit afflated in the empty house and reminisce.

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Dwayne and I camped in the Ozarks next to a bright teal river last night. There’s something thrilling about setting up camp in the dark and not knowing what you’re sleeping near. Luckily I saw the armadillo before drifting off because he sounded like a pack of three ton bears.

We’re almost to Oklahoma City where I hope dear friends won’t mind my unshowered self.

We filled up the gas tank for $18.00. The road trip couldn’t be going better! Full of afflated thoughts. Stay tuned.