3000 Miles Down the Road

I have been eager to see my long distance family and friends on this journey, find a way to fit into their schedules, and have time to talk, over coffee, over wine, over dinner, in their house, in a park, in the morning or in the dark! Timing is the thing of course. Everyone has places to be, things to do.

I have been out on the road, driving across the desert, along winding roads following beautiful green canyons, through Los Angeles 101 in rush hour traffic, and following my AAA Triptik to find my way through busy neighborhoods and over suburban streets with look alike houses, making my way to the front doors of the people I visit. I keep forgetting to ask what their front doors looks like. I should ask because when I arrive, or think I have arrived, I am really not quite sure I actually arrived, having never been there before. Am I at the right house? Do I have the right address? Will someone I don’t even know answer the door? Will I feel foolish and confused if this is not their house? So far, no surprises. But I have more homes to visit.

The last few days have been drive….visit….drive….visit…drive….visit…. Time goes quickly. I pictured it all more leisurely than it is. Not that I am complaining. By the way, I have now traveled 3000 miles in 50 hours of actually drive time which I have stretched into 17 days and many stops.

I love seeing “my” people and a little slice of their existence. Because they don’t know exactly when to expect me, and because they are such terrific people, they let me slip into their life for a day or two, experience their style, eat their food, sleep on their futon, meet their friends at things like an impromptu tailgate picnic, a preschool fundraising potluck party, shared work night dinner out at their favorite local restaurant, watch something special on television or read a bedtime story to their little one. Conversation flows from important stuff like their hope for the future and then to the inconsequential, like, well, like, do I like artichokes? And because they wonder, I tell them about my divorce, my side of the traumatic story, my reasons, my pain, my recovery. These are darn special people who listen and offer compassion and understanding.

I haven’t had any epiphanies or found any answers to the secret of life yet. I have not stumbled over any meaningful wisdom. But thoughts and ideas are entering my brain at each visit and during each drive and they are being shuffled in my brain and categorized and edited. I think that eventually, they will come together like the pieces of a puzzle and I will see the big picture complete with directional signage and suggested routes. At least I hope so.

I am in beautiful Santa Barbara now. Brady and Sydney, who love it here, live in a cute California bungalow with two adorable intelligent, happy, easy going little sons, one dog, and two estranged old cats that moved in with the next door neighbor, apparently I am told, having had enough of the two adorable little boys and big friendly dog.

The night before, I was in Thousand Oaks, CA with a cousin my own age with whom I spent much of my youth with back in Ohio where we built huts in the woods and flirted with lifeguards at the swimming pool. Very recently and for the first time in our lives, we had “words,” a yucky disagreement over family issues. I have heard about these sorts of family “disputes” that occasionally happen and can strain a relationship, but this was our first. I won’t go into the details, but I showed up, she welcomed me, and I am happy to report that we did, in fact, work through the details, get new respective, restore harmony, kiss and make-up so to speak. It was good. Real good. I need not travel further with the bad feelings our misunderstanding generated. And speaking only for myself, I couldn’t stand to lose anything more that is dear to me, having lost so much in the last five years of my life….my mother, dear aunts and uncles, my marriage, “his” family, my home and a collection of 39 years of mementos that are now in my ex-husband’s possession. (Hear that? That is the sting of divorce still hanging around the edges of my mind.)

The night before I spend with Cousin Kelly in Anaheim Hills, CA. She is a delightful person full of enthusiasm, laughter and love. The kind of person who goes to Hawaii for a month to learn surfing. She feeds me energy. She makes me marvel. She is a teacher, a single woman, with a cute condo, BMW convertible, a yoga instructor and a therapist. Very California!

And the night before that, I was in Phoenix visiting with my nephew and his beautiful wife and their charming three year old daughter. One of two preschool visits, Mediterranean dinner out, wine and conversation in their cozy backyard, warm in the desert climate, waterfall providing a soothing musical background, and battery operated candles that look really real, never drip wax, nor provide a cause of concern that one might forget to put out the candle and burn the house down. I’ve got to get some of those.

My overall confidence is growing. I look forward to long drives and nights on my own. Down the road.

I am feeling proud of my navigational skills along the LA interstate with out so much as a scratch on the fender or a horn blown by me or someone I offended. I know that millions of people drive those interstates every day, but I have not been one of them. We don’t have twelve lane bumper to bumper traffic to contend with where I live. When I have traveled in the past, I was one of those wives who let their husband drive through the heavy traffic racing in and out of lanes and merging smoothly when necessary. But I did it quite easily, without nervous apprehension. Another new experience successfully accomplished.

Well, there is a baby crying in the other room offering me the opportunity to soothe and cuddle. Gotta go! So until the next stop, adios, bye bye, and see ya later alligator!

Love ya, Jan