I don't know if we have any plans to rename this blog, but if we did, it might be called something like, MarysMissingMom.
Readers, you can see from Mary's earlier post called Acceptance that Patricia just wasn't well enough to make the cross-country trip. She'd wanted to do it, and they'd both been looking forward to a journey of laughing, bonding and sightseeing. They'd never kidded themselves that driving some 2,200 miles would be a cakewalk, but they had made the decision, chuckled at my "Thelma and Louise" references and readied themselves for a long haul.
As it turned out, Pat's pre-trip injury -- she hurt her knee, making it really tough to walk and uncomfortable to sit for long stretches -- slowed them to a crawl. At the rate they were traveling -- about 250 miles a day -- it would've been a week or more before they'd arrived in Los Angeles from our hometown in Louisville, Ky.
Since Pat was worn to a nub after the first few days, Mary knew it wasn't feasible for her to keep going. She put Pat on a plane Thursday, and now she's finishing the trip alone.
She's trying to make up a little time today (Friday), planning to go from Albuquerque N.M. to Williams, Ariz. She may push it a bit further, depending on weather conditions, on-board snacks and potential second wind.
No doubt some of this final leg will be calming and freeing for Mary, which is part of the rationale behind taking a road trip to being with. And her mind is eased knowing that Pat's now happily ensconced with her daughter, Ruth, hanging out with the grandkids and truly chillaxing. She'll be here when Mary gets home, and that's mighty comforting, whether Mary'd just spent six hard days on the road or not.
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