For more than a week, I’ve been on the road. Whether the travel’s been for personal or professional reasons, the time behind the wheel left plenty of time for this Monday’s musings.
What are your latest travel musings? Leave a comment.
Today’s weather is depressing. “This is what I don’t like about West Virginia winters,” Allen said as I drove him to the Intensive Trauma Therapy Institute today. “Most days are soggy, chilly, and dark.”
Yesterday was dreary, too, and the weather didn’t help Allen’s struggle with “the Wednesdays,” a phrase coined at the Trauma Institute to describe the predictable midweek downturn most patients experience.
When I picked him up at 4:30 yesterday, we did all we could to banish the Wednesdays. The weather and traffic conspired against us, but we persevered. First, we ate an early supper at Panera. (You’ll be pleased to know I didn’t spill a thing!) Then we threaded our way through the most bizarrely laid out parking lots and frontage roads we’ve ever seen, right into rush hour traffic.
After a fruitless trip to Blockbuster Video to rent silly comedies (we were too cheap to pay $10 bucks for two DVDs), we spent ten minutes trying to cross the street to get to a Kroger’s Market so Allen could pick up some hair ties. We found the ties and a DVD rental kiosk (kinda like Red Box) where we scored big time – Get Smart and Stranger than Fiction for $2!
A rush hour accident snarled traffic, and as we inched along, I looked Allen straight in the eye. “I’ve never been in a traffic jam with you before. This could be a defining moment in your new life.” That declaration set us both giggling, so we were primed and dangerous by the time we arrived at the motel and slid Get Smart into the computer.
The movies and your prayers crushed the Wednesdays completely. This morning, Allen was a bit more cheerful. He teased me about my tendency to over-plan and joked about the dark colors that comprise his present wardrobe. There was confidence in his step and hope on his face as he entered the Institute to face another day of memories.
The weather says “Wednesday” this morning – depressing, wet and cold, dark and gloomy. But the calendar says it’s Thursday, and God says there’s sunshine after the rain. Someday, my son and I will see it. Then, we’ll laugh.
I had to get out of the motel today. It’s a Comfort Inn and lives up to its name. The 24-hour-a-day free coffee is good, the popcorn is fresh every evening, and the continental breakfast is decent. The exercise room has a treadmill I’ve been using twice a day. The place is 85 degrees and humid since the whirlpool is in the same location which lends a sauna quality to my walks, but I digress.
No matter how comfortable our Comfort Inn has been, I had to get out of there today. The walls were closing in on me. My sauna self-torture on the treadmill justified spending the morning at Panera’s and splurging on a gingerbread bagel (absolutely yummy) to go with my coffee. The first thing I did at my table was spill my coffee on the floor. Seems I’m not as good as I thought I was at juggling a computer, camera, purse and food tray while threading my way between crowded tables. But no one got wet, and those Panera people are darned cheerful about cleaning up messes.
So today I want to plug Panera’s. In the last week, we’ve visited several, partly because they have healthy food (including vegan entrees for our fasting son) and good coffee and partly because they have free Wi-Fi. When I walked in today and saw the Tuscan colors and warm atmosphere, I relaxed immediately and realized Panera’s provides something I need as much as food and Wi-Fi – a sense of home and normalcy.
People sometimes rail against the “homogenizing of America,” but today I’m grateful for the sameness. And I think Allen is, too. He’s exploring uncharted territory on a daily basis and a small sameness of place has been a life raft for him more than once in the past week. Today he gritted his teeth and entered the clinic, determined to continue his difficult journey. God alone knows where he’ll go today and how much energy he’ll expend along the way.
This afternoon, when his treatment is done, we’ll go back the motel. I’ll do the sauna/treadmill/torture routine. But not Allen. He’ll listen to jazz and email friends, rest and heal, and acquaint himself with the new person he’s become. And we’ll eat supper in familiar territory, maybe at Panera’s, and dream of home.
