Because

Because we're driving down the back road in the dead of night with the cover of the sunroof down and a really bad country song pulsing through the car's speakers, but I don't even care that I hate country. Someone makes a joke and we all laugh, even though we all forget what the joke was in a few minutes. Eventually, we recount the trials and triumphs of the day, as if retelling the glory of a great battle against a near unbeatable enemy instead of a long day at the mall in Vancouver. Remember when? Remember that? Remember? Oh, my feet hurt. We forgot to buy that. You'll have to try to find it in Grande Prairie. Eventually, the conversation fades with our energy levels, and I'm left with staring out the window at the full moon framed over Mt. Baker, now invisible in the dark. That night, I lay out our purchases like the spoils of war on the worn dining room bench, counting and dividing and piling and re-evaluating and reminiscing. Receipts go in one pile. Useless bags in the recycling. Stuff for The Mom, The Brother, The Sister and myself go in separate piles, but nothing for The Dad because he likes to pretend that he's a minimalist hermit who can pack a toothbrush and hop on the plane. Someone turns the TV on, and we watch the USA vs. Brazil beach volleyball match but never find out who wins. Eventually, we get onto YouTube and watch a contemplation of epic Independence Day fails, filled with fireworks exploding when they shouldn't be and drunk teenagers attempting to vault over three Costco tables that split in the middle when landed on by said drunk teenagers. I have never felt more at home. The Brother and The Boys get out the electric guitar at about ten minutes to twelve, just because they can. I call The Sister and The Mom and talk until the middle of the night, because the time difference doesn't really care that I need my sleep. After all that, after all the teeth are brushed and the lights are turned out and the pajamas are tugged on and every weary eye is shut for the night, I lie awake and think. I ask myself if I'm a bad person. Am I a bad person for wanting to stay with these people who have become my family? Am I a bad person for having to choose between two different groups of friends, both of whom I love deeply but am forever doomed to have to choose one over the other? Am I a bad person for choosing between family and adventure? Mountains and the ocean? Pines and eucalyptus? 

Is it wrong that I'm tired of saying goodbye?

Is it wrong that I don't want to leave?