54

Two weeks of vacation sit in my periphery. Two much needed weeks of time to simply let down after a hectic, wonderful, ultra-busy July (and June, and really a full year of 'retirement'). Yesterday, I began my drive home one day earlier than originally planned from 'up north'. A full week of riding and camping at one of my favorite vacation spots, followed by nearly a week with beautiful friends on Burt Lake, riding Northern Michigan trails (and non-trails), kayaking the Sturgeon, eating and laughing and snuggling with oversized lapdogs.

But, I was ready to be home. I missed my donkeys and my usually standoffish kitty, Sassy. I missed my house, the wind chimes on my front porch, and the feels of 'home'. I'd been away from my husband, and wanted to wake up on my birthday beside him, so after an easy pack and load, I started down 75 South for what should have been an easy three hour trip.

Thirty miles down the steep and winding road, something blew in my truck. It was a soft sound, like a balloon vacuuming full of air and then whooshing away. I didn't panic. My truck kept driving. Nothing lit up or fell off, so I calmly drove to the exit, checked it all over, and got back on the highway. It was all good, until I realized that forty was my new top speed. Huh. I didn't panic. I exited at the next spot, used 'the Google' and called a diesel repair shop who sent someone right over.

Simple fix. Blown turbo hose (or something mechanical like that) clamp. I followed 'Normy' back to his parents' shop a couple miles away, and less than an hour later I was pulling back onto 75S.

WHOOSH!

Normy came back, fixed the recalcitrant hose and clamp on the side of the highway (where, by the way very few passing vehicles actually moved the blankety-blank over into the far lane), and off I went.

WHOOSH!

Okay. I'm telling you, this one hurt a little. Off on the side again, and poor Normy was about to die of embarrassment. He got back under the hood. I went back behind to wave off idiot drivers. He sprayed off the grease, ratcheted the clamp back on again, and away I went. He said he'd follow me, just to be sure; and...

WHOOSH! So, I'm laughing now, as I exit and see his face. "I swear this has never happened before!" the twenty something assured me. I saw my Robbie in his face. Not physically, as his eyes were blue and his hair fairly blond; but he was built as I imagine my Robbie would be if he were still here today, broad of shoulder, and kind of heart. Respectful. Polite.

After taking apart the whatchamacallit, Norm promised the third time was the charm, and also promised to follow me a ways, to be sure I was good to get home. He thanked me for my patience, said it had been a pleasure to meet me. I smiled as a hawk flew overhead, and punched my way into moving traffic. Miles down the highway, I waved to Norm as he exited to return home.

Something triggered inside my heart. I was on my way home after a beautiful, relaxing, much needed break in order to be home for my birthday. Robbie usually forgot my birthday. It was a standing joke, really, that I learned not to take personally. He was so in my heart in that moment, and my protective bubble popped. Suddenly, I feared I might have to pull off the road...again. In my mind, a lifetime of images of my son began to replay. I felt my heart opening to the gaping black hole of missing him, acknowledging how much I block and defend myself from total annihilation by staying away from that pit of grief, of really knowing that he is no longer of this earth. Tears swelled, and then, a hawk. A gorgeous, graceful hawk swooped over my truck. It flew over me, floating on invisible currents, circled back around and over me again, and I drove on, wiping away my tears.

I arrived home later than expected, but safely and to the immediate braying of donkeys who were unafraid to show me how much I had been missed. Unloading Mesa, who immediately attacked pasture grass, the donkeys surrounded me, wrapping their necks about my legs and over my shoulder. Donkey hugs. They wouldn't let me leave until I'd scratched and hugged them until I was as dusty as they love to be. After unpacking the truck, I headed inside to Sassy's incessant meowing, curling around my ankles, demanding my attention, all while Cartman and Lucy barked their hellos and asked for scratches of their own. I couldn't have been happier! I opened all the windows, started laundry, unpacked, showered, vacuumed, cleaned, sent Chad a picture of our silly dog so he knew I was home, and relished in the joy of being where I belonged.

These emotions are overwhelming me today. Last night, as I lay in bed beside the best man I have ever known, I told him this story through tears and sobby hiccups. It made me think of how lucky I am as I hit 54.

I am 54 years old, and I am blessed with so much love. I spent time with friends who have shown me repeatedly that they have my back. No agenda. There is only mutual caring and love to a degree that as I write this has me, again, in tears. My life is swarming with beautiful people, a man who adores me and would move the earth to protect me, animals who surround me and show me that I matter, former students who share how I influenced them and who make me so proud I feel like I might bust at the seams. I am stronger and more confident than ever, mentally and physically, unafraid to challenge myself, slip up, and try again.

Life is hard, but here I am. Surrounded and overwhelmed with love and joy and pride and excitement for what the next years hold in store. All the terrible, awful things pave the way for the powerful, amazing moments that show up.

We just have to stick around to savor the good stuff.

I've cried more today than I have in a long time. I've let my heart rest upon the good parts today, and that opened the floodgates. I'm okay with crying. My heart is full.

Whooooosh!