My car virtually exploded with clothes and boxes. Like a cherry atop an ice-cream sundae, my precious puppy sank into the mound of blankets, towels and pillows that smothered the front passenger seat. It was early in the morning, still too dark for the sun to wake. I kissed my husband good-bye as I set out to drive the 11 hours from Nashville to Dallas, leaving the only home I'd ever known for 26 years. It would be six weeks before Paul and I would see each other again, and I was about to embark on the one adventure I never dreamed would happen.
