A few days ago I informed my parents of the trip. My mother was belligerent, as is often her course of action, while my step-father was very calm and reserved. My mother often incited how it's not the '60s, how there are "weirdos" out there, that I think I know everything, and that no one just walks across the country anymore. I told them that I am a fool, that I know nothing, and that if no one does it that makes my attempt all that much better.
Familial love is a powerful thing. It's strong enough to heal the world but instead exhausts its energy in tearing itself apart with worry.
