My mom made her famous cinnamon rolls (they aren't really famous, but they should be), pizza and Italian chicken. She even made crepes, my favorite. I felt like I was a little kid again. And on Saturday morning, she came into my room and gave me a hug in my bed, just like she used to do when I lived at home. I have a really nice mom -- and a really nice dad. He went through my owner's manual with a fine-toothed comb and discovered that my anti-lock brakes were not working (and I thought that red light meant they WERE).
And after my brother shot me in the eye with a Nerf gun and my sister and I sang the entire "Poor Unfortunate Souls" song before church, it was time to hit the road again and come back to Salt Lake City.
I realized something when I drove back into town this time, though. I miss Idaho. I'll probably always miss it. For 22 years, it was my home. But Salt Lake is my home, too -- and I love living here, too.
Aren't road trips just fantastic? :)