You may have noticed the blog was down over the weekend. There was something technical involved, servers and expiring domains and major drama, none of which I will burden you with. Suffice it to say, a human being was needed to make things right, and humans tend to disappear on weekends (which is as it should be), so I went the whole weekend with no blog. Alas! I missed all of you a great deal.
In the meantime, I picked up my niece C. in South Carolina, and we had a blast this week, visiting the vipers in the Serpentarium, shopping at the Asian market in Raleigh, browsing through used bookstores, throwing together an impromptu photoshoot that involved a keytar. C. is sixteen and brilliant and compassionate and logical; she’s quiet, but when she speaks she always comes up with something thoughtful to say.
On Monday, we attended a talk about human trafficking. At first, I had wondered whether it was appropriate to bring a sixteen-year-old to a talk about people being sold to other people for unspeakable acts. I discussed it with her mom ahead of time, and before the talk I told C. if it got too heavy or disturbing that we could leave, no problem. The talk was heavy and it was disturbing, but I think the day we can hear things like that and not be disturbed will be a very sad day indeed. More on this to come…
Last night, I dropped C. off with her dad in South Carolina, and drove home at 8:00 p.m. after a dinner of shrimp and grits from a Georgetown waterfront restaurant. We had watched the sun set behind the paper mill and made small talk until we finished. I drove home in the dark, passing through Myrtle Beach with its bright lights, neon signs, beach shops. Myrtle Beach has always reminded me of a smaller, beachier version of Orlando, with its putt-putt golf courses and the way night seems false there, its shops bathed in light, its billboards flashing, as if night were just a backdrop for the town’s color, as if the dark were just helping the lights seem brighter. I remember walking around Epcot at night, so much more enjoyable than seeing it in the daytime. At night you could ignore the seams, the painted dirt, you could believe for just a moment that everything was real, that life was really like this.
I stopped for a McDonald’s iced hazelnut coffee when I felt myself getting sleepy. I still had two hours to drive. As I paid the two bucks and got my coffee, I realized how pleasantly different it was to be alone in a fast food drive-thru in a strange city. Rarely do I travel alone, and it was a little thrilling to get that coffee and drive off, not knowing every street, not knowing exactly where the speed limit changes and where the cops wait and what radio station I should listen to. I cycled through stations, listening to a random soundtrack of songs like “We Are the Champions” and “La Bamba.”
The drive was a gradual re-entry for me, a time to be alone when I’d had constant company for five days. I love having guests, but I’m an only child at heart and spend most of my days by myself, which suits me quite nicely. So, there in that car, the radio a constant surprise, a plastic cup of cheap iced coffee in the cup holder, I was alone with my thoughts, and I smiled and was happy.
10 Comments
I often travel alone and enjoy the sense of newness it instills. It makes you evaluate who you are and what your story has become. When we stay in one place too long our story becomes the story and stepping outside our comfort zone, even just to an unfamiliar, nearby city, we are forced to remember that other people have stories too. When we travel with others it is much easier to take our stories along because the other person is often involved, making the disassociation more difficult. In all of my travels I can’t help but think about how different or similar I would be if I were raised somewhere else.
I’ve not really thought of it that way before, but it does make sense that you take more of your “regular” life with you when you’re with other people while traveling. I’ve always been so impressed with you, traveling the world and being so glamorous! And eloquent to boot.
I’m glad to hear that you had such a good time with your niece! I love the feeling of driving alone, especially at night. These are often the times when you feel thrilled just to be alive. And as an only child as well, I can totally understand the need to be alone with your thoughts.
Three cheers for only children! Growing up, I don’t remember meeting a lot of only children, but now I know several.
How are you an only child and an aunt? (Otherwise, this blog is one of the sort that makes me feel quiet and reflective, in a subtly pleasant way.)
One of the things I miss most about driving is finding those strange places that I’ve never seen and not caring if I get lost. One of the best things in the world is a full tank of gas, a wrinkled map and a day of nothing.
Sabrina: An excellent question! I should have addressed this! My dad has two kids from a previous marriage. They were both in their teens and lived with their mom when I came along, so I was raised as an only child. My brother and I don’t really have a relationship (haven’t seen him since…I don’t know, sometime in my teens). My sister and I do have a relationship, though, and it’s her kids I see fairly often. My brother has four kids now, I think, but I’ve met only one of them. Families can be weird.
Jarvis: I second that!
Aha! Funny and interesting, the things we don’t even know that we don’t know about each other, even after years of reading all about it.
I LOVE Serpentariums! I am glad you and your niece had a great visit.
I had never really thought about the specialness of driving alone (like not to and from work, but n a journey). However, after reading this, I realize that I cherish this, too. My drive to and from school on the weekends is pretty long–a little over 2 hours. I really enjoy it though because I love seeing the Florida countryside. I pass farms with horses, cows, goats, and even alpacas! I love watching the light flicker through the pine trees as I speed past. But I guess most of all, it is when I transition from school Zea to home Zea. Thanks for bringing out this realization!
Alpacas! Your drive sounds lovely. I don’t think I’ve seen much of Florida’s countryside, especially not anything north of Orlando.