Rogue, reporting in. I pulled out of Rosalie for the last time at 10:30 am on Wednesday morning, October 4th (I'd been aiming for 10, but who's counting), leaving my wife and a whole life behind in Houston.
A few people have asked why I left, if I love it so much and it's a hard answer to give. The short answer is that Houston was never my goal. I hate cities and city life and i was never going to be happy there, even if Rosalie was an oasis of calm and magic in the midst of the bustle. I never bothered to make an effort to find more of a life there, though I'm still not sure that was the right move. I'll never know.
I admit that I cried through most of the ride up 45 to Dallas, knowing that Twist and Zoom was breaking up for a little while. All things, of course, must end, hard as it is.
Some hours after a final stop at Buc-ees, I crossed the state line into Oklahoma and was pleasantly shocked to find that it's an absolutely gorgeous state. Route 35E North (I can't figure it out either) took me past a massive wind farm and towards Sulphur. After a wrong turn into the wrong part of Chickasaw, I finally found a campground.
Skipper had recommended that I camp here, as she'd stopped on her way down from Colorado. And I'm really glad she did. On my way in, I saw both a turtle and a wild tarantula crossing the street at various points (I saved the turtle and wished my best at the tarantula). I finally pulled in around 6pm and set my new tent up, the old one having broken at the LGG rally.
I'd forgotten how much I love camping, even if it was a little too lonely and a little too quiet, despite the coyotes surrounding me.