Growing up, my family took road trips and camping trips and later as a teen, long backpacking excursions. The journey to the trail head always seemed faster when we went with our dear friends, a great family who had experience backpacking. Along the way, we would pull over at vistas to read from the historical marker placards about the events of the region and enjoy the view or plunge our bare feet in the cold streams or have lunch at the battered wooden picnic tables. I don't recall ever wondering if we were going to make it to the trail head on time or if we were heading in the right direction except for when I had the privilege of navigating which meant I got to sit in the front seat where the air conditioning worked well and hold the map. I felt important and vital to the trip's success. I have since realized that was my dad's way of teaching his children map reading skills because he was already very familiar with the route. After resuming our trip after a view point stop, to make the journey seem shorter, I would pretend it had just begun.
This time away from Roland and our children (when I haven't been wondering how he is managing everything), has felt like pull over time at a view point area. I am brought back to my childhood years of few responsibilities and in the moment thinking. It makes me want to have inefficient interactions with our children when I return which includes appreciating and pointing out all the good things they are doing and letting their little oversights slide more. I want to wade in creeks without stressing about whether the interior of the car is going to get a little wet. It will dry; we live in a desert.
With this next round of Chemo, I want to pretend our adventure is just starting so it won't feel quite so long. Roland sounds so cheerful and upbeat when we talk on the phone. It feels like he is at a scenic overlook too, but I am sure it is hard for him to take care of all the responsibilities of both parents. What a great husband and Dad!
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