The girls and I had been to his beautiful house in the past, and we looked forward to heading there again. Not only is the house like a home you'd find in the Parade of Homes, but the trek there is lovely. And I'm not just speaking of the three male marathoners that regularly run through the area, every muscle defined, their bodies lean, and tanned, they glisten in the sunlight....
I've gotten distracted. There's bluffs and countryside, too. It's lovely.
We were curving along the country roads, I was confident we would get there, I had been there before, and I was following my same directions. I certainly am not like my aunt and mom, or so I thought. I love my aunt dearly, but I was mystified when she recently recounted multiple stories of not finding her way, despite having a tom-tom in her car.
And mom. She gets lost in parking lots and can't find her way out. Visiting her this last time, she wanted to avoid a train and I clutched the headrest behind her for leverage as she whipped back and forth over potholes and curbs, trying to find her way through backlots only to dead-end into the back of a building. "Geesh," I had thought. "I don't know how anyone can have such trouble finding their way through their (small) hometown."
I started chewing on my pride, in preparation that I may have to swallow it when Sophia calls up from the backseat "Mom, did you miss a turn?"
It hadn't really dawned on me, yet, that things weren't going well. But since she mentioned it, it was taking a bit longer to get to Tom's house than usual. I kept driving because what does a four year-old know anyway?
It's a good thing I had begun chewing on my pride. As it turns out, I did have to swallow it the moment I saw the sign
"Welcome to Wisconsin."
I wasn't even sure how we ended up in a whole other state. It really seemed to have snuck up on me, much like the back of the building had for mom, and the 45 minute detour my aunt took as she bypassed her hometown that she visits a few times a year.
Like my mom and aunt, I, too -- apparently -- get lost. And not just in a little old parking lot, or missing an exit. Nope. I bypass a friend's house and head straight into another state.
Really, how does a 4 year-old recognize we've missed a turn --or two, or three-- before her mother?
And she'll never let me forget it. Telling her a few days ago that it was time to head to Tom's, she asked "Are we gonna miss any turns? Don't miss the turns, 'kay?"
I'll try, but I can't promise you anything....