We didn't talk.
Together we were holiday orphans. No hot dogs, sparklers, potato salad or outings requiring coolers. But we had our sense of humor. And some wine. Oklahoma isn't somewhere you really want to be in July but if your blonde best friend is in the passenger seat and you drive fast enough either the heat won't catch up or you just won't notice it.
We missed the fireworks so our purpose defaulted proverbially from the destination to the journey. The word journey conjures up a purpose but we were gypsies. I've often felt like a gypsy. Is it really so terrible not to belong somewhere specific? I prefer belonging to people instead of places.
