Running Away

This weekend was... not good. Anyone that knows me knows that I run away from my problems, and I felt like I had nowhere to run to this weekend. One of the signs that I have an amazing and supportive boyfriend is that he recognizes my need to run away, so we got in the car and he just started to drive. We'd gotten about an hour away when he asked if I wanted to go back. I wasn't ready. So we just kept going, riding in silence while I stewed and processed and vacillated (and at times nodded off) until we found ourselves in northern New Hampshire. We stopped at a shitty Irish pub for dinner and made our way through the White Mountains National Forest on our way home. It was exactly what I needed, to be surrounded by mountains and trees and silence. By the time we reached somewhere around North Conway (and we still had a couple hours ahead of us) I was ready to talk.

We came in on Rt2, went through Gorham, Berlin, Lancaster, then down 302 and got back into Maine via Freyburg. Had we just kept going west for 10 miles, we would have made it to Vermont.