MY HUSBAND ASKED WHY A TWO-HOUR DRIVE HAD TAKEN ME THREE HOURS. FOR TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS, I WOULD HAVE IMMEDIATELY EXPLAINED MYSELF—TRAFFIC, GAS, CONSTRUCTION, ANYTHING THAT MADE MY DELAY SOUND REASONABLE. BUT THAT DAY, SITTING ABOVE THE OREGON COAST WITH A CUP OF COFFEE IN MY HANDS, I FINALLY GAVE HIM AN ANSWER HE WASN’T USED TO HEARING: I HAD STOPPED BECAUSE I WANTED TO.
You could see the ocean from the highway,” my husband said. “I know.” “Then why did you stop?” I looked through the windshield at the gray-blue Oregon coast stretching below…