A few weeks into March of 2017, I got a phone call from my oldest/longest standing friend I have to date. Andrew Swain and I met in middle school when we were 11 years old and are still friends to this day, 20 years later. We rarely talk on the phone, if ever, and mainly keep in touch when I go back home to Colorado every year or so. I remember being at the dog park with Maya when I saw Andrew’s name come up on my phone. My mind always immediately thinks the worst and this time was no different. “Andrew’s calling me, this can’t be good,” I thought to myself. And it wasn’t.
Sure, it sounds dramatic. Maybe it is. For six months now, my partner and I had this amazing 10-week road trip across the United States planned out. We wanted to see as many National Parks as we could, and we both wanted our fur babies to see the same. We had the same ideas about traveling and getting out of our comfort zone, and figuring things out as they came along. It all came to a sudden halt just five days before we were supposed to take off. I’m trying to learn quickly to not play the blame game, but what was supposed to be an incredible summer with my boyfriend ended up with me scrambling to figure out everything I’d need to know for a solo adventure for an entire summer across the US.