The final stretch from Tea, South Dakota, to Eden Prairie, Minnesota, felt longer than it should have, not in miles but in the way our bodies carried the weight of the past few days. Hours on the road can feel manageable at the beginning of a trip, but by this point, we were both worn down in ways that are hard to ignore. We had settled into a pattern of only stopping when necessary, quick breaks for petrol and restrooms, just enough time to step out of the car, stretch our legs, and remind ourselves what it felt like to stand upright.
Even with those small pauses, the discomfort lingered. My body seemed to protest the most. Sitting had become a challenge, and by the last hour, I found myself shifting constantly, trying to find a position that offered even a little relief. Tom, on the other hand, carried his discomfort differently, though I could see it in the way he moved. His ribs were still tender from days of coughing, each breath a reminder that he had a way to go before he recovered.
He is getting better, which is something we both hold onto. Still, he is not himself. There is a heaviness to him, a fatigue that does not lift, paired with that deep, lingering congestion that seems to come with RSV. It is the kind of illness that takes its time, requiring patience whether you are ready to give it or not. I recognize it because I was there not long ago, moving through the same exhaustion, the same slow climb back to feeling normal.
Despite it all, we are in good spirits. There is comfort in knowing we are on the mend, that each day brings a little more energy, a little less discomfort. We have no sense that medical care is needed, just time, rest, and the willingness to let our bodies recover at their own pace. What we are most looking forward to now is seeing our family, though even that comes with a layer of caution. I have been sick for over two weeks and feel confident I am no longer contagious, but Tom will need a few more days. It is the responsible choice, even if it requires a bit more patience.
By the time we pulled into the hotel, the need to stop was immediate. There is a certain urgency that comes after hours on the road, when all you want is a door to close behind you and a moment to exhale. Even that simple process tested us slightly. The keys to our first-floor room refused to cooperate, leaving us standing in the hallway, tired and waiting. The front desk staff handled it quickly, calling maintenance, and before long, the issue was resolved.
When we finally stepped inside, the room felt familiar in the best possible way. Without hesitation, I made a quick dash to the spacious bathroom, grateful for the comfort of something so ordinary and so necessary. It is funny how travel reshapes your appreciation for the smallest things.
The staff, recognizing the inconvenience, added 5,000 Marriott Bonvoy points to our account, a gesture we genuinely appreciated. It was a simple act, but one that made us feel cared for, a reminder that even small disruptions can be softened by kindness.
Once settled, we moved into our usual routine. Bags opened, clothes put away, everything finding its place. Within forty-five minutes, we had transformed the space into something that felt, temporarily, like home. There is satisfaction in that process, in creating order after a day that has felt long and somewhat taxing.
A few hours later, neither of us had the energy to go out, so we turned to what has become an easy solution. We ordered dinner through Grubhub, choosing comfort over effort. I went with steamed chicken and vegetables, and shrimp egg foo yong, something light but satisfying. Tom chose his usual favorite, sweet and sour pork, a dish that always seems to bring him a bit of comfort. The portions were generous enough to carry us through another meal, which feels like a small victory.
We intentionally ordered enough for two nights, giving ourselves permission to rest tomorrow without having to think about cooking. Still, I can already feel the balance shifting. While the convenience of delivery is undeniable, the cost adds up quickly. Even with a fee-free service through Amazon Prime, dinner for two on Grubhub comes close to US$ 50 per day. Dining out would easily double that.
Today, I will take some time to put together a small grocery order, something simple that allows us to cook on the evenings when we are not with family. It feels like the right middle ground, a way to care for ourselves while also being mindful.
Before settling in for the night, we reached out to the family to let them know we had arrived safely. There is comfort in that message, in knowing that soon, when the timing is right, we will be together again. For now, rest is what we need most.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, May 17, 2016:
