Well, what a difference a day can make.
Last night by the time I arrived at the hotel I was exhausted, which gave way to a full-blown anxiety attack about my mom. (Long story, suffice to say I get them periodically, let's move on.) All you faithful followers got a glimpse in my 3/24 post titled "Acceptance." I then dropped onto the hotel bed, read a string of supportive texts from various folks, called a friend and got everything off my mind (a.k.a. cried more), and, mercifully, fell asleep.
When I got in the car this morning, it really did feel like a brand new day. I had repeated assurances from my sister that mom was comfortable and enjoying herself. Mom texted me (yes, she's cool like that) that she had breakfast with my niece and nephew and the awesome family dog, Fozzie. With all these factors in place, I was ready (and hoping) to enjoy myself.
Aside from the impressive wind gusts, the weather was gorgeous and I made it all the way from Albuquerque, New Mexico, to my stop now in Kingman, Ariz. I felt alert and calm and even cheerful as I rolled along through New Mexico and Arizona. I set up my iPod with my travel speakers and proceeded across I-40 giving a vocal concert of magnificent skill and passion. I mean, that's what I thought. No one was there to contradict my review of my own performance, so you'll just have to trust me.
It was kind of a blast and it reminded me of the zillions of road trips I've been on in my life. I've never been to Europe or Mexico, but I've been to, or at least driven through, every state in the continental U.S. except Montana and Wyoming (I guess you guys are next). I've honestly been on so many road trips I don't remember some -- like the one to Dallas that Terry referred to in an earlier post. I had totally forgotten about it and then the image of her snoozing peacefully in the back seat came creeping back along with the memory of my resentment! But, hey, what's done is done.
I took the most road trips with my best friend, Lisa, until I moved to New York in 1997. I do remember that feeling of getting in the car and just taking off. Often we were hightailing it to some awesome stadium concert (The Rolling Stones, U2, The Police, etc.) or partaking of the Chicago Blues Fest or Mardi Gras. Sometimes we were going to a Kentucky State Park. We had instinctively coordinated bathroom stops down to a science. Lisa was usually in charge of the mix tapes (oh, my God, I just burst out laughing in the hotel business center thinking about mix tapes!) and we always agreed on the destination -- not that we cared so much. Anywhere was better than here.
There were moments today where I actually felt free and alive like that girl -- only without the wicked post-adolescent angst. As I drove along, I mentally visited events and people, some of which I haven't thought of in years: hanging out at Lisa's house watching MTV; how seriously I took being a hall monitor in 5th grade!; my first boyfriend and how much we adored each other; my sister and I drawing the Imaginary Line down the backseat of the car. The memories were all set to a soundtrack of my choice thanks to shuffle mode, so I pretty much had a great time.
There was also a really cool truck driver who managed to prevent me from getting a speeding ticket by sort of boxing me in between two semis. I wasn't really ticked because I was going with the flow anyway, but in just a few moments we rolled past a trooper waiting for some poor sucker to breeze by -- and thanks to that trucker, it wasn't me.
Tomorrow (Saturday) I should make it all the way to Los Angeles. I'm so excited! As much as I love a good road trip, there's no place like home.
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