The left and the leaving

Saying goodbye is hard; I've done it all summer; goodbye to Number 10, goodbye on station platforms, but saying goodbye to your boy not knowing what the vagueries of covid will throw at you, so unsure when you'll see him again is emotionally draining.
This time we're leaving, but Bernie S couldn't accept it.  He was a stow away and wouldn't get out of the boot.  
We said goodbye to Mu and pulled the dog out of the car. 
The best way to travel is to be asleep.  I haven't slept in a car since I was a baby.  When I finally managed to get the seat to recline we were on the edge of the mountains, when I woke up we were in the the flat forests of Les Landes.  
So here we are, surrounded by maize fields with a week of sun before us but no waves apparently.   I don't care.  I just want to sleep and read books on the edge of the ocean.