Interlude

Last night, I fought sleep. Endlessly mulling: what is this trip? Is it a vacation? Is it an existential journey? A combination of both--or neither? My number one trait on Strengthsfinder is strategic; I'm a natural born plotter, constantly crafting workarounds to get to the finish line. But, for some reason, with this trip, I'm having a hard time even seeing the tape.

It was all so clear in the summertime: meet friends in the National Parks. Then covid stripped the friends from the equation. Now, winter weather and lost permit lotteries have stolen half of said parks. Fear and some self-recognition have helped me make it to the weekend. I may as well have tossed my famous color-coded itinerary into the fire.

Where do we go from here?  

Christmas five years ago was a similar panic. The first after my parents split. I remember trying to drag the tree up the basement steps, but the box was too big for my freakishly child-sized hands. Dry cardboard on small palms. I couldn't get a grip. But I needed to normalize and motor and make spirits bright for at least a moment. Have you ever tried to fill your arms with piles of 80s plastic branches? They know you hate getting too close just as much as they do--they're meant for dangling delicate memories and shoving into angel butts that light up. When you try to cling to them all at once, they scratch back. But, eventually, I dumped every last piece onto the hardwood floor upstairs. I imagined the artificial tree communing with the murdered ones it lay on. Look what they've reduced us to, she said.

I thought I had everything I needed to hoist this holiday into a standing position, but--of course--a couple of screws were loose from the base. A couple missing. I'm not handy (Gorilla Glue, anyone?). The damn thing fell onto the piano. I heard the crash from the basement, where I was cleaning up the box. After disassembling the whole thing, I called my dad, sighing into the phone. Pissed and sad and spent. But I was ready to start over.

How did you do this? I asked. Why did you do this? Why didn't you just buy a new tree after 45 years?

Well, in essence, he did. But that's a whole other story.   

So, today, faced with a million choices--every travel-advisory-free state at my fingertips--do I lean into the knee-jerk and head to Florida and friendship and comfort? Do I tempt my heart with Hawaii and a new investment of solitude? Or do I give this corner of the world another shot and take Bao Bao to see the canyons?

Just because I've met the mountain, it doesn't mean I need to climb. I know that. I also know a missing ingredient of this past week has been laughter--the helix I've realized rarely finds it partner when I'm alone. But damn it I don't want to regret giving up too quickly, just because I was too paralyzed to make a plan.  

Either way, tomorrow, I'm bound for the south rim. Blindly driving forward. At least, I have Bao Bao tucked in with me--and you.

xx