I begin my solo road trip to Toledo, Ohio, from Dallas, Texas, after work on Tuesday, August 11th. I am anticipating some problems with fatigue as I don’t do well with caffeine—it makes me jumpy and, behind the wheel of our new Prius, I don’t want to be that. I have taken many a road trip in the past to Toledo and Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania, where my husband’s family lives, but never alone. I am accustomed to driving two hours and sleeping two hours while Ed drives. But this time, I am counting on Sirius/XM radio to keep me awake.
I have the entire trip planned down to the hour. I have purchased Priceline hotel rooms along the way for me and the girls. Ali and Katie will leave the following Monday to drive up to Muncie, Indiana, where Katie is due to start college the Monday next. On the return trip, Ali will accompany me leaving Katie’s car behind for visits to relatives or friends in Cincinnati or Toledo on weekends or Spring Break. Before and after my trip down to Ball State to help Katie move in the dorm and pick up Ali, I will be staying with my long-time best friend and former college roommate, Sue, and her husband, Mike, as well as with my Mom in Toledo.
A jumble of thoughts swirl through my head as I begin my journey. My oldest child, Andrew, is due to begin college at long-last. After three years of being on his own, working as a waiter and growing up, he discovered his true love is still music. Thanks to the Texas Tomorrow Fund, he is now enrolled in the Jazz Studies program as a keyboard performer at the University of North Texas, one of the top music schools in the country. I thank Families Anonymous and Andrew’s indomitable spirit for his success in finding his way to the place he needs to be. For once, we did nothing. Ed and I are very proud of Andrew and the fact that he is putting one foot in front of the other and doing what it takes. We often look at each other and smile—we must have done something right because all three of the kids are fascinating, talented and caring human beings.
Ali is pursuing her dream of becoming a doctor at Texas A&M University. She is an undergraduate junior majoring in Biology and is scheduled to take the MCATs in a few weeks. She has been phenomenal in everything she’s ever undertaken—gymnastics, piano, science, etc. She currently has a 4.0 average at one of the most difficult universities in the nation. She is very goal-oriented, independent and mature—much more so than I was at her age. She actually hasn’t had a boyfriend in almost a year—even though she has had many offers. She believes in total equality of the sexes and thinks some of my ideas about marriage are antiquated. Sounds familiar! Although my mother was ahead of her time and I believe I’m ahead of mine, Ali is way out there.
And then there’s Katie—the last baby bird to leave the nest. I am grateful to say, she has finally found her niche. She floundered in many of her early attempts, but I guess she’s just a late bloomer. Wisely, she didn’t follow in her brother and sister’s footsteps and go into piano at the Arts Magnet High School—although she could have. She chose theatre instead and it seems to have worked for her. Katie was one of twelve chosen by audition from a 200-person pool of actors to participate in Ball State’s prestigious theatre program. Her ambition is none other than to win the Best Actress Academy Award and thank her parents for their support.
How did the kids get so old so quickly? When Ed and I married, which seems like in the relatively recent past, they were ages 4, 5 and 7. We were a blended family—Ali is my biological child and Andrew and Katie were adopted from Korea by Ed and Joan, who passed away rather suddenly. And now fifteen years later Ed and I are finally going to be alone. It’s a bit scary. We’ve always had kids around—lots of activity, lots of noise. I know our faithful cats, Homer and Maggie, will keep us company but, no doubt, it will be different.
The first five hours of the drive to Little Rock fly by surprisingly quickly. I listen to The Grand Ole Opry on the satellite radio. I blow by Texarkana and am into Arkansas before I know it. My life seems to be going by the same way. Andrew turned 21 last January. Ali turns 21 in November, Katie 19 in December. So they’re more-or-less adults now. They don’t rely on me the way they used to. They call me when they need something quickly, but most of the time they figure out on their own how to navigate their lives. I don’t remember being treated like or feeling like an adult when I turned 21; but in this day-and-age, thanks to the Privacy Laws, one day kids are kids and can’t do anything without our signature and the next day you can’t find out anything about them without their permission.
I stop for “dinner” at Taco Bell and eat my burrito while I’m driving. I’m in-and-out in a matter of minutes. When traveling with the kids, we would stop more often and spend more money. My burrito is $1.79 and it makes me laugh. I brought a cooler of Coke Zero and bottled water with me and a bag of pretzels, chocolate covered almonds, dark chocolate bars and breakfast Detour bars. So other than the occasional vegetarian main dish, I’m pretty set. The Prius is running like a charm and I feel safe and comfortable inside it. I use the cruise control and keep the car at an even 75 mph.
Being a young adult today is quite different than when I was young. College wasn’t nearly as hard—nearly everyone succeeded who tried it. It wasn’t as expensive nor was it as difficult to get accepted. Families didn’t take trips around the country checking out universities. Kids attended their local city or state colleges and didn’t complain about it. There didn’t seem to be nearly as many career choices. You majored in business, teaching, medicine, science, the arts, etc. No one majored in “Microbiology, Immunology, and Molecular Genetics” like you can now.
I spend a quiet, peaceful night in Little Rock after watching a Seinfeld rerun. I am up and on the road by 9:00 a.m.—right on schedule. I stop to grab a banana from the free breakfast and eat a Detour bar for my protein. The Prius GPS tells me the drive today consists of 639 miles and will take 11 hours and 10 minutes. I don’t believe it—taking into consideration the hour change from Central Time to Eastern Time, I plan to arrive in Cincinnati at 7:00 p.m. I find Bob Dylan’s Theme Radio on Sirius. I am happy to be on the road and not at work. I am grateful for the beautiful weather and the day spreading out like a patchwork quilt before me.
Oftentimes my mind is like my dreams—in the morning, I try to catch the memories before they float away. A thought will enter my mind; I’ll reach for my pen, and it’s gone. I desire more clarity but I seem to be in too big a rush. I want to slow down and learn to enjoy the NOW. The little success I have had with “living in the moment” usually occurs when I’m walking in the park by myself. I walk slowly, taking in my surroundings, feeling every inch of my body. Thoughts enter my mind and I gently let them go and return to my mindfulness. There is nothing I need to do, nothing I need to plan.
But now, I am on my way to Memphis. We visited a few years ago when Ali competed in the National Tumbling Championships. I remember how I enjoyed watching her fly through the air. Our friend, Larry, is transferring our videos to DVDs so we have been watching some of the old footage. I wonder if new technology helps kids’ memories stay intact. We have videos of just about every event in our children’s lives. Wouldn’t that help prevent repressed memories? Does watching movies of yourself when you were a kid prevent denial? After all, it’s difficult to deny what’s right there in living color. So much of what happened in our childhoods has to be dredged up to be examined.
I have the entire trip planned down to the hour. I have purchased Priceline hotel rooms along the way for me and the girls. Ali and Katie will leave the following Monday to drive up to Muncie, Indiana, where Katie is due to start college the Monday next. On the return trip, Ali will accompany me leaving Katie’s car behind for visits to relatives or friends in Cincinnati or Toledo on weekends or Spring Break. Before and after my trip down to Ball State to help Katie move in the dorm and pick up Ali, I will be staying with my long-time best friend and former college roommate, Sue, and her husband, Mike, as well as with my Mom in Toledo.
A jumble of thoughts swirl through my head as I begin my journey. My oldest child, Andrew, is due to begin college at long-last. After three years of being on his own, working as a waiter and growing up, he discovered his true love is still music. Thanks to the Texas Tomorrow Fund, he is now enrolled in the Jazz Studies program as a keyboard performer at the University of North Texas, one of the top music schools in the country. I thank Families Anonymous and Andrew’s indomitable spirit for his success in finding his way to the place he needs to be. For once, we did nothing. Ed and I are very proud of Andrew and the fact that he is putting one foot in front of the other and doing what it takes. We often look at each other and smile—we must have done something right because all three of the kids are fascinating, talented and caring human beings.
Ali is pursuing her dream of becoming a doctor at Texas A&M University. She is an undergraduate junior majoring in Biology and is scheduled to take the MCATs in a few weeks. She has been phenomenal in everything she’s ever undertaken—gymnastics, piano, science, etc. She currently has a 4.0 average at one of the most difficult universities in the nation. She is very goal-oriented, independent and mature—much more so than I was at her age. She actually hasn’t had a boyfriend in almost a year—even though she has had many offers. She believes in total equality of the sexes and thinks some of my ideas about marriage are antiquated. Sounds familiar! Although my mother was ahead of her time and I believe I’m ahead of mine, Ali is way out there.
And then there’s Katie—the last baby bird to leave the nest. I am grateful to say, she has finally found her niche. She floundered in many of her early attempts, but I guess she’s just a late bloomer. Wisely, she didn’t follow in her brother and sister’s footsteps and go into piano at the Arts Magnet High School—although she could have. She chose theatre instead and it seems to have worked for her. Katie was one of twelve chosen by audition from a 200-person pool of actors to participate in Ball State’s prestigious theatre program. Her ambition is none other than to win the Best Actress Academy Award and thank her parents for their support.
How did the kids get so old so quickly? When Ed and I married, which seems like in the relatively recent past, they were ages 4, 5 and 7. We were a blended family—Ali is my biological child and Andrew and Katie were adopted from Korea by Ed and Joan, who passed away rather suddenly. And now fifteen years later Ed and I are finally going to be alone. It’s a bit scary. We’ve always had kids around—lots of activity, lots of noise. I know our faithful cats, Homer and Maggie, will keep us company but, no doubt, it will be different.
The first five hours of the drive to Little Rock fly by surprisingly quickly. I listen to The Grand Ole Opry on the satellite radio. I blow by Texarkana and am into Arkansas before I know it. My life seems to be going by the same way. Andrew turned 21 last January. Ali turns 21 in November, Katie 19 in December. So they’re more-or-less adults now. They don’t rely on me the way they used to. They call me when they need something quickly, but most of the time they figure out on their own how to navigate their lives. I don’t remember being treated like or feeling like an adult when I turned 21; but in this day-and-age, thanks to the Privacy Laws, one day kids are kids and can’t do anything without our signature and the next day you can’t find out anything about them without their permission.
I stop for “dinner” at Taco Bell and eat my burrito while I’m driving. I’m in-and-out in a matter of minutes. When traveling with the kids, we would stop more often and spend more money. My burrito is $1.79 and it makes me laugh. I brought a cooler of Coke Zero and bottled water with me and a bag of pretzels, chocolate covered almonds, dark chocolate bars and breakfast Detour bars. So other than the occasional vegetarian main dish, I’m pretty set. The Prius is running like a charm and I feel safe and comfortable inside it. I use the cruise control and keep the car at an even 75 mph.
Being a young adult today is quite different than when I was young. College wasn’t nearly as hard—nearly everyone succeeded who tried it. It wasn’t as expensive nor was it as difficult to get accepted. Families didn’t take trips around the country checking out universities. Kids attended their local city or state colleges and didn’t complain about it. There didn’t seem to be nearly as many career choices. You majored in business, teaching, medicine, science, the arts, etc. No one majored in “Microbiology, Immunology, and Molecular Genetics” like you can now.
I spend a quiet, peaceful night in Little Rock after watching a Seinfeld rerun. I am up and on the road by 9:00 a.m.—right on schedule. I stop to grab a banana from the free breakfast and eat a Detour bar for my protein. The Prius GPS tells me the drive today consists of 639 miles and will take 11 hours and 10 minutes. I don’t believe it—taking into consideration the hour change from Central Time to Eastern Time, I plan to arrive in Cincinnati at 7:00 p.m. I find Bob Dylan’s Theme Radio on Sirius. I am happy to be on the road and not at work. I am grateful for the beautiful weather and the day spreading out like a patchwork quilt before me.
Oftentimes my mind is like my dreams—in the morning, I try to catch the memories before they float away. A thought will enter my mind; I’ll reach for my pen, and it’s gone. I desire more clarity but I seem to be in too big a rush. I want to slow down and learn to enjoy the NOW. The little success I have had with “living in the moment” usually occurs when I’m walking in the park by myself. I walk slowly, taking in my surroundings, feeling every inch of my body. Thoughts enter my mind and I gently let them go and return to my mindfulness. There is nothing I need to do, nothing I need to plan.
But now, I am on my way to Memphis. We visited a few years ago when Ali competed in the National Tumbling Championships. I remember how I enjoyed watching her fly through the air. Our friend, Larry, is transferring our videos to DVDs so we have been watching some of the old footage. I wonder if new technology helps kids’ memories stay intact. We have videos of just about every event in our children’s lives. Wouldn’t that help prevent repressed memories? Does watching movies of yourself when you were a kid prevent denial? After all, it’s difficult to deny what’s right there in living color. So much of what happened in our childhoods has to be dredged up to be examined.
I am past Memphis and nearing Nashville. I make a few calls—to Sue to tell her when I plan to arrive and to Ed to tell him I miss him. I am looking forward to one of Sue’s outstanding meals. She is one person who doesn’t mind that I have become a vegetarian. She loves me just the way I am and I feel the same about her—for forty years now. We have been through marriages—two for her and two for me—divorces, children, and illness. She developed cardiomyopathy right after she married her second husband and hasn’t been able to work for years. She got sick after she got her Masters and became Director of the Dance Department at the University of Cincinnati where we were once underclassmen. While I went on the dance professionally, she went on to teach ballet at the college level. So I guess you could say our college educations paid off. I hope my kids will be as fortunate.
However, the competition seems to be getting more intense. Everyone is getting better at everything. When Ali was in gymnastics, her coaches would tell her that at Level 10 she was doing more difficult tricks than the athletes who competed in the Olympics twenty years ago. In track-and-field, football, basketball, etc., records are being broken every day. When I see regional dance companies, most of their dancers are as good as anyone in a New York City ballet company back in my day. Will humans continue to improve? Or is there a limit to what the human body can do?
A college degree is almost not enough these days. Kids are graduating with four-year degrees and the only jobs they can find are as waiters and waitresses. Or they are competing for jobs as interns that don’t pay anything—you work for the experience that affords you a paying job down-the-road. My generation fears their children will be worse-off financially than they are. Has the tide finally turned?
I find a country station on the Sirius/XM radio that plays a lot of artists I like—Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams, Robert Earl Keen, John Prine. I stop for a Wendy’s cheddar and broccoli potato and struggle to eat it while I’m driving. Being a vegetarian on a road trip sucks! I am through Nashville and on my way to Louisville, Kentucky. I lived in Louisville with my first husband, Mike, the year after I graduated from college. Sue was living with her first husband, also a Mike, and we would visit them often. While in Louisville, I continued to study ballet with the hope of becoming a member of a ballet company whose Artistic Director was setting Les Sylphides on the Louisville students. Suffice it to say I wasn’t the type of dancer they were looking for. At the time, I was disappointed; but in hindsight everything worked out perfectly. It brings to mind a song in which Garth Brooks sings, “Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers.” Amen.
My switch to vegetarianism is a recent development. Ed and I viewed the film, Peaceable Kingdom, a few months ago at our Unitarian Universalist Church. The extent of the cruelty being perpetrated against factory farm animals throughout this country in order to satisfy our hunger for meat is appalling. Hens are crammed so tightly together their beaks are snipped off at an early age to keep them from pecking each other to death. From birth to death, most factory farm animals never see the light of day. Female cows are kept perpetually pregnant so they can continue to produce milk. Their udders become so massively bloated from this cycle that many of them have a difficult time walking to the slaughterhouse. Once they deliver their calves, they are artificially inseminated again while their male offspring is sold as veal. Pigs fare no better. They are pumped full of steroids and kept in pens so confining they can’t even turn around. If our meat consumption declines, so will the killing. It’s just that simple.
I am through Louisville in a wink and am now only a little over an hour from my destination. I call my older sister, Carla, while crossing the Ohio River. Her condo overlooks the River and I will be seeing her soon—sooner than I think it turns out. When I arrive at Sue’s, only a half-hour later than my scheduled ETA, her two standard poodles, Prince and Patch, welcome me wildly. I am happy to have arrived safely; I am happy to see Sue and Mike, and I am happy to be sipping a refreshing glass of white wine. The dinner is as I expected—Perfecto! More wine, dessert and then off to bed early as tomorrow will be a busy day.
The weather in the morning is perfect for a jog so off I set with my IPod to go exploring. As I run, I mentally recite my “gratitude list”—I’m grateful to God and Guru; I’m grateful to be a beloved child of God himself; I’m grateful for this blessed day full of sunshine and friends. After my shower, Sue and I decide we will have lunch at my favorite place, Mt. Adams Bar & Grill, and we invite another former classmate, Marcy, and my sister, Carla. Carla and Marcy got to know each other during our Summer Stock days at the Pioneer Playhouse in Danville, Kentucky. It was the summer after my college graduation and it was my first paid dancing gig.
A lot has changed since then—most of it for the best. At the time I was timid and unsure of myself. I hooked up with Mike so I would have a “partner in crime”. It’s a lot easier to take risks when there are two of you. But also I have matured. I don’t need anyone else to lean on or “make” me happy. I know why I am here on this earth and what things are really important—and they’re not material.
The lunch is so fun—four old broads not caring what anyone else thinks. We drink Stella beer and laugh like hyenas. I am with people I care about deeply and it warms my heart. Later, after a swim and a nap, Sue, Mike and I eat dinner at a pizza place. Life is good and it’s even better when you savor the moments. The next morning I leave for Toledo. I am not sad to say goodbye as I will return with Ali in a week.
As I drive I think about my brother, Joe, and the fact that he is in love. He was married for several years to Julie and they have two kids—Allison and Kevin. They are sweetheart kids and I have seen quite a bit of them in the last four years since their parents split up. Joe is determined to see they have a close relationship with the members of his family. He tends to be a workaholic; but after Julie left, I think he has let up some. He is a very attentive and nurturing Dad. Last summer I asked him if he thought he would ever marry again. In his typical jovial manner, he quipped, “I don’t think I’ll ever date again.” So I am exceedingly happy that he found a great girl like Mary. When I met Ed, after I had been married 10 years and divorced 13 years, it was love at first sight. I have been so happy and fulfilled in my second marriage that I wish that for everyone.
Julie is somewhat of a glamour girl. I think when we’re young, we tend to marry for looks. Hopefully, although it’s not always the case, the older we get, the more we are attracted to the beauty within. I am not saying Mary is not pretty—but it’s a different kind of beauty. It’s a mature, down-home, comfortable beauty. At least that’s what I see in her picture. I have yet to meet her.
When I arrive at Mom’s, she and Terry, my younger sister, are waiting for me. They both look good and I’m happy to see that Mom is walking better. She broke her hip last Spring and has had a real time of getting her mobility back. It doesn’t help that she has macular degeneration and doesn’t see well. But she’s in great spirits. It’s wonderful to see them both and we visit until Carla comes and it’s time to go meet the rest of the crew. Mom elects to stay home and enjoy the peace and quiet.
My youngest sister, Ann, and her husband, Charlie, were playing golf with Joe and Mary so we meet them at a restaurant near the golf course. I get to sit next to Mary and feel an instant rapport. She really does seem perfect for Joe (although not perfect, like Joe—his words). I find out that she and Joe dated in college and reconnected on one of his trips to Chicago to play in a guts Frisbee tournament. They have history—that might explain the instant attraction. She is a freelance photographer, a yoga instructor, a Buddhist and a vegetarian so we have lots to talk about.
On Saturday, Joe and Mary’s last day in town, we play golf at Terry and Gerry’s. They live on a golf course and it’s tradition to play there at least once when we’re in town—especially since they usually pick up the tab. Aside from the fact that I don’t play well, it’s great fun. Brother Carl and his girlfriend, Linda, bring Mom and we all go out to the Bayshore Supper Club for dinner. The kids join us for a night of bridge, euchre and Texas Hold ‘em back at Terry’s. Two of the kids are the big winners. I record everything with my new camcorder to show Ed, but accidentally erase it. The story of my life.
The next few days are filled with bridge and golf—the two games I enjoy most in the world. More often than not I lose at bridge because, as they say, “Lucky in love, unlucky in cards.” One night Nancy, my best friend in high school, and her husband, Rudy, take me to dinner at Olive Garden and we reminisce. She is one of those friends who never change. We can go a few years without seeing each other; but when we do, it’s like no time has passed.
On Monday I play golf with my three sisters at Bedford Hills. It is not only our favorite course but also the site of Terry and Gerry’s wedding some 13 years earlier. They were wed overlooking the 18th green after a scrambles tournament. I am optimistic I will play better today than I did on Saturday, but many obstacles prevent me from reaching that goal. After we play the first eight holes, the sky opens up unexpectedly and we are caught in a deluge. We huddle under a tree sharing one umbrella and giggling despite the fact we are getting soaking wet. After about 30 minutes, the rain lets up and we make a mad dash for the clubhouse. In between pitchers of beer and thunderstorms, we finish our game—in a record-breaking nine hours.
I can’t remember when I have enjoyed a game of golf more. I feel sorry for people who don’t have brothers and sisters and incredibly lucky that I do. The six of us are very close and we rarely fight or even argue although that wasn’t always the case. I am grateful that I married Ed so Ali could enjoy siblings. Maybe I love my family more because I live far away from them and seeing them is such a treat. I do think there is something to the theory that people reincarnate in groups. I think we must have earned our good “family karma” in a previous life. I am glad that my kids “chill” together and keep in touch by calling, texting and on Facebook .
Wednesday finally arrives and it’s time to drive to Ball State. The drive is uneventful but easy and stress-free. Carla and I meet the girls at their hotel and we drive together to McDonalds for some breakfast. Of course they haven’t eaten—they would have had to use their own money. I have taught them well. After breakfast, we follow the girls to Katie’s dorm to unload her belongings. It is looking very much like rain; but luckily, it holds off while we get everything unpacked and stacked at the curb. Katie and Ali walk into the dorm so Katie can sign-in and get her room key. Good news, she’s on the third floor—one of the elevator stops. We won’t have to walk up any stairs. Volunteers in pink scoop up everything in one load and we march single-file up to Katie’s new home. After about an hour, it really does look like home. Katie’s belongings are hung up, tucked in drawers or on display.
There are a few things we need to do so we set off to get them done. Katie needs a parking sticker for her car so we follow a family with a sophomore who knows the way. The line is predictably long and we wait about an hour before the mission is accomplished. Katie also needs to buy a few items—most notably a fan as the dorm is not air conditioned—so after parking Katie’s car at the Football Stadium, we drive to Target to shop. Afterward, we eat lunch together and it’s time to say goodbye. Back up in Katie’s dorm room, we Skype her roommate so we can “meet” her (unbelievable technology) and then prepare to leave. Of course, we take lots of pictures and I have the camcorder going—but it’s more of the footage I lost. Katie is a little teary-eyed but I am determined not to cry. I know we will both be fine and become accustomed to the new arrangements quickly.
Once downstairs in the dorm lobby, we realize that once again it is pouring rain. I guess we should be thankful that all Katie’s stuff didn’t get wet. What else is there to do but dress in some discarded plastic bags and make a run for it? It pours off-and-on all the way home but it isn’t raining in Toledo so we stop and visit Ann, Terry and their Wednesday night golf league cronies at the usual Mexican restaurant. Ali is with us and I think she enjoys being with her Aunts and being treated like an adult. I slip her margaritas when the waitress isn’t looking. As long as she knows “everything in moderation” she will be fine. I am not worried about her.
The next morning there is more rain in the forecast, but we decide to try to golf anyway as this is our last chance. It’s the girls again only this time Ali makes five. She has never played on a regulation course although she did take a semester of golf at college. She is nervous that she won’t do well and that she will be embarrass herself. Ha! She is incredible—getting a par 5 on the first par 5 hole she has ever played. Ali is a natural athlete and I am happy for her that she plays well. We will all be talking about that game for a long time. And unbelievably, it doesn’t rain!
We gather for a farewell dinner at the River Café, although unfortunately Carl and Mom have already gone to their usual Thursday night Mass and dinner at Big Boy. I am sorry that we didn’t call them earlier to tell them about our plans. The food is good; we take lots of pictures and exclaim loudly and often, “This is the life.” We finish the night with our last few rubbers of bridge. At 85 Mom is as sharp as ever and, once again, she whips our butts. Friday morning Ali and I leave on schedule for Sue’s and our trip back to Texas. It is difficult, as always, to say goodbye.
Mom still lives in the same house we moved into when I was in the fourth grade so it brings back a lot of memories. Many of the memories are of my Dad who passed away almost six years ago, but most of the memories are happy even so. I am grateful to have had such wonderful, nurturing parents as I know that is essential for the development of healthy self-esteem. However, parenting today has changed quite a bit from the way we were parented.
While the kids were growing up, I wanted to make sure they respected me and knew who was boss. I attempted to impose my will upon them and “make” them do what I wanted them to do. I was a “do-it- because-I-said-so” kind of a mom. Again because of Families Anonymous, I realize that might not be the best way to parent. I am now a firm believer in keeping my mouth shut and letting my kids make their own decisions. They either suffer the consequences or reap the rewards and it’s all their doing. I only take credit for myself and my own accomplishments and leave them to their higher power.
The visit with Ali, Sue and Mike is magical. I look on in awe at the astonishing woman who came through me but is definitely her own person. I no longer have to “mother” Ali. I can appreciate her and all my kids as my dear, dear friends. The trip back to Dallas flies by too quickly. Ali leaves for college the day after we get home.
I am looking forward to having a new, freer life with my husband. No more homework, rushing out for last-minute supplies, hectic weekends filled with concerts, plays or gymnastics meets. Just the two of us—sitting on the couch reading, watching a movie holding hands, having a candlelit dinner for two or running a marathon. I no longer worry about the kids. They are being cared for by a being with whom I can’t compete. Nor would I want to. I am ready to relinquish my role. The last baby bird has flown the nest.
