Days 11, 12, and 13 - All Roads Lead Home

 Omaha, NE to Beaufort, SC - Home

These last days I'd decided not to write. And not because I didn't want to, but because I felt I didn't have much to say. For those few days, all we really did was drive... 

Three days ago, somewhere along I-90 headed East through South Dakota, we discussed making it to Dodge City, KS, or pushing on through to Louisville, KY to visit family there, but frankly, I was gassed. More than that, I was really missing home. With fatigue taking a far greater toll this time around, the Three Amigos made the collective decision to push on and return a day early. Though now that we're here, arriving safely last evening, I woke up this morning questioning so much.

When Conor and I drove the country for nearly four weeks in the Summer of 2022, every day was an adventure. A new destination, a new conversation, a new connection - both to region and to one another. It was exciting and unplanned, either camping along the way or grabbing a hotel room in whatever town we were headed toward. There was no real schedule to keep and thus, no anxiety for keeping it. 

This time around would be different.

I am in no way regretful. Just wondering how I might have done it better. Certainly the trip was amazing! We were able to make all our target destinations and while in those places we made incredible memories!! But as the miles ticked away so too did my want for adventure. Without question it was the most intensive driving I've ever done, and that is truly saying something. The 32' motorhome was not only far bigger, but it's louder, too. The sound just beyond the cab of the vehicle was hollow, making conversation with anyone sitting behind me near impossible, reduced instead to shouting.

"HEY! CHECK OUT THOSE PRONGHORN ANTELOPE!!" the sound of my voice competing for air over the rush of wind surrounding the brick on wheels struggling to stay at 75mph on even the most modest highways grade changes. 

By the end of each day's drive I was spent. Once parked, I would dig in my heels to get the RV setup, build a fire, cook dinner, and then clean up, managing to drink a beer or two through it all. But that was all I could muster. 

Without question, were I to do this again I would elect to drive my Silverado and tow the RV (vs drive it). Still, despite simply chalking this up as lessons learned, I stayed in my head, and frankly, felt a bit blue...  

"It's over already? Why do I feel this way?"

After properly caffeinating I trudged out the door to make my way to the grocery store. Conor was still asleep and his teenage self would stay that way 'til at least noon. Given this and the fact that I didn't have a scrap of food in the house, I decided to stop at Waffle House for bacon, eggs, and of course, more coffee. 

Still feeling a bit off, as though in a self consumed daze of personal judgement, I made my way to a counter-stool and took a seat. Immediately the young lady next to me spun on her seat and extended her hand. 

"Hello! It's nice to meet you!"

I turned and smiled... 

"Hi! My name is Shane, what's yours?"

"I'm Zoey!"

Still smiling, I looked just beyond Zoey to see her father grinning quietly, content with the interaction.

The conversation was both startling and bright and immediately pulled me out of my doubting, melancholy daze. 

She went on...

"I'm turning 16 this year! But then I have to have surgery. They're going to operate on my liver, and my heart too. Would you like to come to my birthday party? I'm going to have cake, cupcakes, and donuts!"

"Cake, cupcakes, AND donuts?! That's the best birthday, ever!!"

Looking past her once more I saw her father grinning approvingly, but there was a depth in his eyes. The world of worry he's carrying could not be missed, though watching his soon to be Sweet Sixteen daughter with Down Syndrome confidently begin and carry on a conversation with a perfect stranger was well more than enough to brighten his day. And mine, too.

I spoke with Zoey another few minutes before her father signaled her that it was time to go. She scooted around in the stool, making her way to the floor behind me.

"Goodbye Shane! It was nice meeting you. I love making new friends!" extending her hand once more.

"Goodbye, Zoey! And good luck with your surgeries! You've got this!!" I exclaimed.

Just then one of the attendants blurted out, "It's 11:11 - y'all make a wish, now!"

I made a wish, and a silent prayer for my new friend, Zoey, and her father, too. And just like that, my perspective shifted. My own life came into focus and I snapped to - a wave of gratitude washing over me like a spell was just broken.

Zoey was a gift. She was the light in an otherwise bleak day where I was consumed with thinking about what I'd done wrong vs. all that went right.

Life truly is beautiful in that way.

Leaving the Waffle House with a renewed bounce in my step, I started recounting all the positives of the trip. The places where lasting memories were made. The conversations shared. The calamity of setting up the RV, a few memorable "technical" difficulties, but more than anything, the spirit of the people who were on it. The Three Amigos, the Duffy girls, and even poor Moultrie - who was a four-legged ball of anxiety for literally the whole ride.

In all we drove over 5,500 miles in thirteen days. More a mission really, K9 laughed at how I would need a vacation from my vacation... Though realistically speaking, I should have plenty of those opportunities. With his 83rd birthday just around the corner, 5,500 mile road trips while carrying an 80lb "lap-dog" are surely fewer. In fact, I often had to remind myself that he is a man in his 80s, because for his part he would be awake and alert the whole drive, helping to setup camp, taking Moultrie for walks, and even keeping up with us on a near two mile hike through the Grand Tetons.

K9 is truly a gift in our lives, and I've been honored to be his son-in-law these last twenty-three years. During much of that time of course, we were distant. I was the man married to his daughter and he was my Father-in-Law. We've always been both friend and family, though given our circumstances and appreciating how we've come together, our relationship is decidedly far beyond that of father and son-in-law. In fact, we have re-forged our family, born from grief and loss, and in that vain I see us all as being truly fortunate. We Three Amigos.

Could I have done things differently? Sure. Might the outcomes have been different? Certainly. But are there regrets? Nope, none. There are only the memories from a Healing Road that goes on and on and on, with new places to see, people to meet, stories to tell, and love to give.

And someday we'll be back on the road again. After all, the party never ends...