My So Called Summer — Pt 2 — Crap Covered Walk Down Memory Lane

December is hurtling towards January at ludicrous speed.  Which brings me to finish my recap for the summer of 2014. Given the general shitty-ness of what happened in Virginia, my kids have nothing good to say, and what they could say is probably not worth sharing.

This is highly ironic because I spent the time leading up to the trip and during the trip working to keep it a secret from mr horrible. I was afraid that if he knew of my willingness to drive to the East Coast, it would give him ideas and increase the frequency of his visits, or set a precedence of possibility for me bringing the kids to him for a visit. F that in the A right now.

In the end, he never heard about the trip, nor will he ever, as it is an episode we would all like to just put behind us and pretend it never happened…

Summer vacation is supposed to be a time of fun and relaxation, and more importantly, it is usually a time to make memories. The road to hell IS paved with good intentions. If ever I doubted, I know for sure now. I need to better hone my ability of listening to my gut instinct.

The signs were all there–I ignored them from the start and in the end all I had to show for the adventure was debt and time spent that I will never get back. I should have listened to my gut when it kept trying to tell me that perhaps my plan to drive to Virginia was ill conceived. I was having doubts up until the night before our departure, and in retrospect, these were indicators of what awaited me upon my arrival.

I had this grand scheme that making the 20 hour trip would be a great way for me to bond with my children, and a good way to spend some time with my friends that I left behind when I moved from Virginia back in 2011. My sons had both been lamenting the solitude of our life in Texas, neither having made any close friends in middle school to spend time with over the summer. The general tone of life in an apartment complex that doesn’t have a playground or a park, doesn’t lend itself to just randomly spending unsupervised time outside, which sucks when you’re a kid.

I was still enrolled in school over the summer, and even though it got me out of the house, I wasn’t making friends. The people I did see on a daily basis at my work-study job weren’t the sort of people I was looking to spend a great deal of time with…but that’s a topic of discussion in this post. That left me with only one solution for summer fun, right?

I thought that if I could go back to Virginia, the one place where me and the kids at least remember being “happy”, then I could rekindle my distant friendships, and get filled up on enough “friendship” to last me long after I returned to Texas. Sounds good in theory. In retrospect that was a shit reason to make the journey and it showed in the quality of my stay on the East Coast.

Back in Virginia, I was instantly reminded of the things that had been going on among the circle of friends I had had. Way too much drama and petty nonsense that just didn’t make any sense to me and felt like it should have been happening to someone else.

There was the sad realization that my bff was no longer the person I thought her to be due to personal medical events in her recent past. There was also the even sadder realization that the people I thought would be cheered by my return weren’t even around anymore due to many a fallout of relationships after my move in 2011.

I also didn’t realize just how depressing it would be to drive by the old neighborhood and see other people living in what used to be my house. The reminder of yet another bad decision and ultimately the sale of the house by mr horrible, an event during which he spread rumors about me to the realtor and they in turn made their way back to me via my neighbors and other acquaintances.

Just a real shitty situation that had fallen back into the buried parts of my memory, and boom! There they were front and center again. I didn’t need this crap infested walk down memory lane. Why did I think this was a good idea again??

I regretted the trip more with every passing moment. The new tolls on the highways, the traffic caused by bad drivers, the small highways (why only 2 lanes?) and the higher cost of living: all up for comparison with my new life in Texas. Food cost more in VA. Gas cost more. It was just one thing after another.

I missed my bed, I missed my apartment, and I missed the many conveniences of life in Dallas. I also wished I had flown, knowing that as fun as time spent with my kids on the road was, I still had the daunting task of a 27 hour trip on the return with no one to share it.

Driving only helped me to accomplish one thing and that was to add a leg to my journey of a visit my mother in Connecticut. If I had flown to Virginia, going to Connecticut would have been cost prohibitive and I wouldn’t have seen her.

Which is tragic to me because she isn’t getting any younger and my mother, though she be crazy and we may fight, has done so much for me that I would regret not taking this time to cherish her while she still breathes. So, a trip to CT it is!

However, even as I reached terminal velocity and escaped the black hole that was my Virginia experience, I had no idea that turbulence lay ahead. The moment I crossed over the Delaware Memorial Bridge (1 of 2 so called) into New Jersey, I fell apart like I have never fallen apart before while driving. If I were to describe it, it was like there was another version of me, the one that mourned the marriage, the sad version of me, that was trying to tear out of my body via my face.

I couldn’t breathe, I almost had to pull over and compose myself, but upon seeing my distress, my kids saw that we were in Jersey and urged me to drive faster. Hurry up and get out of the state that was the site of so many bad memories for all of us. They’re no dummies–they obviously realized that everything about I-295 North and the NJ Turnpike was laden with pain filled memories I had no desire to relive.

So I drove faster. I pushed my truck to the limits and providence was on my side because there were no cops or state troopers. I did not stop driving until I was in Connecticut and the need to empty my bladder and gasoline were calling me to a rest-stop off the Merritt Parkway.

Visiting my mother was bitter sweet. I regret not making Connecticut my only destination. In the end it was the only point of the summer road trip that was any fun and the only time when I truly felt my (our) presence was actually wanted and not taken for granted.

Since it was on the tail end of my journey, by then I was burned out on being away from my home in Dallas, we didn’t spend nearly as long with my mother as we wasted in Virginia. The kids got to see grandma and I got to visit my mom and some of my aunts.

It was a bittersweet parting but the sooner I got on the road, the sooner I would be back in Texas. I was never so happy to see the 75 mile an hour speed limit sign in my life, as it marked the final leg of my journey home.

Now, many moons removed from when I was at her house, I think about how my used-to-be-BFF took my visit for granted. That fence is never to be mended. I don’t care what she said to me right before I left her house about how she didn’t want to lose my friendship and how she hoped that the way she acted didn’t sever our tie irrevocably.

Had she really cared about how her actions would affect our friendship, perhaps she should have thought about her actions at the time and treated me and my children better, rather than giving me lip service and empty apologies afterwards. In my life I’ve had too many people telling me things, thinking their empty words would heal all wounds, whilst their knives were plunging into my back. 

I made a huge effort, spent my time and money to visit you and you treated me and my kids like shite. Nope. So sorry for you, girlfriend! You fucked up our friendship real good.

What I did enjoy of my 57 hour round trip journey to Virginia, Connecticut and back to Texas, was the time I spent in the truck with my sons. That was the best thing ever. I like the people they are, they make me laugh and smile and they appreciate life in general. Together we enjoyed the eccentricities of each state that we drove through.

The trip may not have achieved the goal I set out with, it may not have all been fun, but it was certainly memorable.

I learned that hanging out exclusively with my children is a balm for my battered soul. Next time we go on a road trip, I am not visiting anybody.

No more trips down Memory Lane. Bump that nonsense.