After nearly two-and-a-half weeks, our road trip adventure has come to an end.
Our morning began at a popular rest stop parking lot in Ohio. We did a quick bodyweight workout to get our muscles stretched and moving before the long car ride we had planned. While I was getting ready, Joseph found a coffee vending machine that gave us the delicious elixir for a fraction of the price we normally pay. Armed with caffeine and a sugary breakfast, we began our trip home.
Our main objective today, besides driving home, was to pick up my engagement ring. After nearly a month, it was finally ready for pick-up. The only problem was this: The ring store closed at six o’clock, which gave us very little time to rest during our drive. We knew we could make it, but we had to skip lunch to do it. This, however, seemed like a small price to pay for finally having the symbol of our engagement back where it belonged.
The unfortunate roadblock to our success came at three o’clock. Joseph received a phone call from Stevenson University, which seemed odd to both of us because he graduated from that school in May. When Joseph answered, we discovered it was a call from the security office.
“I just received a call from a gentleman in Pennsylvania who has found your wallet,” the security officer said. Joseph and I both looked at each other in shock, and then, as if it were even possible to find it, we began looking around the car for the misplaced item.
“I’m not sure if you even knew it was missing,” the security officer continued.
“No, I didn’t,” Joseph said as reality set in for both of us. We had stopped for gas in Pennsylvania…three hours ago.
The security officer gave us the phone number of the man who found the wallet. Joseph called the number, but the man, identified as Cliff by his voicemail, did not answer. We began the drive back, hoping to receive a return call soon.
As actuality of what was happening finally set in, I began to cry. I was disappointed about the ring, of course, but I was more upset because I believed that it was my fault. Joseph had given me his wallet to fill up the car with gas while he visited the restroom. I realized that I must have left it at the pump, which meant that the added six hours of driving, the lost opportunity to pick up my ring, and the little rest and recovery we were actually going to get tonight were my fault.
Joseph tried in vain to console me as I sobbed in the seat beside him. I could see he was close to laughing about the situation, but I could not seem to join him in his amusement.
We received a call about 30 minutes into our drive from Cliff. He was a kind, older gentleman who lived in Pennsylvania. He said he had found the wallet on an on-ramp to the highway. Confused by this, Joseph and I both looked at each other.
“We must have left it on top of the car,” Joseph said, which begged a new question: Which of us left it there? Did I put the wallet there while trying to purchase gas? Or did I return the wallet to Joseph, when he had been unable to find a restroom, and then he put it on the car while he finished pumping the gas?
After we told Cliff how far away we were, he told us it did not make much sense for us to drive all that way.
“I will just mail it to you tomorrow,” he said. A spark of hope ignited in both of our hearts. We thanked him profusely, and as Joseph gave Cliff his address, he drove the car onto an exit to turn it back in the direction of Zales.
We lost an hour of driving, but we were both now in happier spirits. Not knowing who left the wallet was the best situation because both of us have a tendency to be angry at ourselves but almost never at the other person. We could not help but laugh and shake our heads at the irony of losing his wallet on the last day of our trip.
We arrived at Zales with thirty minutes to spare. At last, my ring was returned to where it belonged. I did not realize how much I had missed it until I had it back. It seems so simple, so insignificant, but it honestly feels like the last part that was missing inside of me has fallen back into place. This ring is a reminder and a symbol of the promise I have made. It brings me joy every time I look at it.
The rest of the ride home was uneventful. We sipped on lattes even though it was far too late to drink espresso; at our level of exhaustion, nothing was going to keep us awake tonight. We listened to music and savored our last few moments together before life became normal once again.
“What should be our final song,” Joseph asked me minutes before arriving home. Music was one of the first things we ever connected on, and it has remained a core part of our relationship. We have a theme song for nearly every moment spent together.
“You choose,” I told him. I trust his taste in music as much I trust him with my future.
A moment later, he had turned on the song Colorado by CHAPPY. As I knew it would be, this song was the perfect choice. We listened together, thinking back over all of our memories: The mountain hikes; strolling main streets with coffee in hand; our fights and our moments of bliss; the long drives; camping under the stars; exploring the wilderness outside and within ourselves, and finding it was much less intimidating than we thought; and our perfect moment beneath the fireworks, a celebration and a resolution to an unforgettable journey.
Our travels were filled with twists and turns. It had metaphorical and physical mountains we had to climb and conquer, which lead to views and resolutions too incredible to describe. When we began this trip, I thought it was just going to be a celebration of our engagement. I did not realize that we were both looking for something when we embarked on this adventure.
The song ended with the sentiment, “I am unfinished. Yes, I am not done. Still, it’s up here in the mountains, I defined my home.” As the final chord struck, Joseph turned to me.
“And it’s you,” he said. “You are my home.” I smiled as we pulled onto the road leading to my house.
“You are my home and my adventure all at once,” I told him.
This chapter of my story has ended. I cannot wait to write the next one with him.
