Leaving

Part 1
My heart pounded loudly in my ears and pushed at the walls of my chest. The cool morning light crept quietly up the backs of the houses across the street and silently spilled into my front yard. I couldnt tell if the energy that ignited the air came from the mornings fresh, unfettered sunlight, or from within me. I hurried back and forth, in the house, back to the truck, in the house, back to the truck. Id never felt so alive. No, not just that; more of a feeling of regeneration, a second chance: a redemption. I felt as if I was coming to feel life for the first time, chains had fallen off, I was stepping out of the cave-cell and into the light of a free life. The early morning air caressed my skin, igniting my passions and my buried desires. I ran into my house through the garage, past the island in my kitchen, circling past the bathroom and through the main entry, up the curving stairs. Breathless, my heart pounding hard, I leaned over each of their bedsone-by-oneunable to control the smile that contorted my face in ways my children were no longer used to. Honey Sweetie Just reach up to me and I will carry you. Come on, sweetie; we have to get going. Its time. Reach up to your mama. I know youre so tired. Its okay; you can keep sleeping in the truck if you want. thats it. Mamas gotcha. I slowly descended the stairs with my precious cargo clinging tightly to me, legs flailing by my side. First, my six year-old daughter, Rayna; then, my four year-old son, Peter; finally, my youngest child, my three year-old son, Jesse. Three kids in the truck, and now I would get my fourth: Jack. Jack would be the easiest one to get into the truck as I didnt have to carry him. He was eleven now. He nearly stood my five and a-half foot height. He was a good kid, staid out of trouble, did what he was supposed to, he was up for anything, and never complained. He was going to be my right-hand-man for the next sixteen days as I took my kids across the country on an adventure. He was very proud to have been given this role. Jack-y Jack-y legs Good morning star-shine; the Earth says hello! No sooner had I said that, he started upward from his bed, barely awake. Almost as if he had spent years rehearsing for this moment. Half asleep, he dressed, reached for his cell phone and his wallet, and headed straight for the stairs. I followed behind him, beaming with pride for him. In the precious few moments it took us to make our way up the stairs, I witnessed my child grow; he was no longer my little Jack-Jack, my little boy. He was the leader of the pack and he played this role with a dignity and integrity far beyond his eleven years. As he is my oldest child, I have had to grow as a parent with him, experiencing a different kind of indoctrination with each and every birthday. Being five years older than

Rayna seems to magnify his maturity and all the milestones he was leaping and bounding over. Walking behind Jack as he made his way to the truck without provocation, I noticed his thick blond disheveled hair. He had inherited his perpetually messy-looking hair from me. God, I loved everything about him. My God what the two of us had been through. Looking at Jack, I remembered the same crazy hair on the two year-old boy who had held my hand that perfect December night in Beaufort, South Carolina so many years ago. It had been twilight and the air was still 65 degrees warm. I was taking him to see his first movie: Jim Carrys How the Grinch Stole Christmas. This was already one of my all-time favorite movies from childhood and I was fervently anticipant to take Jack to this new versionparticularly this holiday season. In that moment, I had let go of all the normal nagging negative issues that routinely followed me throughout each and every day the physical distance that stood between me and my family, my failing marriage, my tumultuous social life, my struggle to complete college all of them had gone from my mind, gone from existence in that one moment. Right then, all I had known was Jack and the beauty around me; nothing else had mattered. I was in love with my son and at peace in the space around me. This was an unusual place for me to beback then and still to this day. His face filled with anticipation, Jack turned to look at me for permission to carry on out to the truck as if the referee were about to shoot the starter gun and our race would beginor whatever one would call what we were about to do. Go ahead, bud. Everybody else is already in the truck and waiting. Need help with anything? Nope. I think I got it allhopefully If we forget anything, we will just have to makedo. I kind of liked the thought of having to make-do. I was energized by all the unknown factors that awaited us. After a premature pregnancy with a man I didnt even respect, marrying him anyways, our marriage failing, a second tumultuous marriage to a man whose work had kept him away, he was in-and-out then gone again and away some more for seven years, giving birth to three more kids, raising all four on my own for the most part, and, of course, years and years of financial strain, I was finally doing something deliberate, something that I wanted to do. I had realized what I needed to do two weeks ago, which was just enough time to give notice to the families of the kids I was doing daycare for, make a tentative plan, mapping out routes and locations of interest, acquire camping gear, and pack up my truck. Though my family was not thrilled with my adventure, they all knew this was a Coreything; and I hadnt done a Coreything in way too long. They knew I was suffocating to death. All of me was drying-up and wilting away. Ive seen plants like me: the plants whose owners never remember to water them and little by little they begins to wilt, then their edges begin to brown, and soon they are consumed with neglect beyond any hope of revival. I had wilted, and then I had browned around

Everythin with an u morning.

the edges, and until two weeks ago, I would have said I had been neglected beyond revival. Something desperately needed to happen. Everyone knew thisprobably more than I did. This was a burst of adrenaline, a dying persons will to live, an effort to avoid the imminent death of my spirit once and for all. The idea for the trip came in the very instant it had occurred to me that my husband wasnt the only one neglecting meI had stopped caring about me, too. I couldnt change him or make him love me, but I could love myself. What a thought. So profound it was that, here I am, two weeks later, having packed up my kids, I am taking to the highways that span thousands of miles across the U.S., specifically in the direction that leads away from my current life. How many times had I fantasized about running away, scooping up my kids and just running away like when we were kids? I envied the innocence of my childhood, when I would tell my parents I was running away and I actually thought I could and it would solve all the problems, and, in fact, I could become a hero who lived in the forest and performed great acts of valor. I felt independent and strong; I was invincible. I began to realize what the energy in the air was. It was that peace that peace I had felt with Jack so many years ago I was feeling that same peace I had felt so many years ago once again.

Part 2

An Escape A 16-Day Trip

All my planning for our day of departure had slowly unraveled. Though I was finally barreling down the I90 south toward Rochester, getting our first miles underway, we had only just left the La Crosse area and it was four hours later than I had intended. An unscheduled stop at Urgent Care and then ShopKo to get a prescription for Rayna, who, it turned out, had a bladder infection that had worked its way into her kidneys, along with a necessary stop at the Ford Auto Shop to replace a failing two year-old alternator, had waylaid our ability to get going as planned. And then, to top it all off, I had absolutely done the wrong thing and only gotten four and a half hours of sleep. My fatigue was only just now beginning to hit me as I looked ahead at the long stretches of concrete that went on and on, disappearing into a far-off horizon, blurred by the summers midmorning heat. Watching the never ending, unchanging expanse of road that stretched in front of me, I began to think about the last two weeks of my life wherein I had thought of nothing other than this trip. After years spent struggling to understand the unhappy and unfulfilling life I had carved out for myself, I had had an epiphany. I needed to quit doing childcare, collect some camping gear, pack up my kids, and hit the road for a 16-day adventure across the Midwestern, Southwestern, and Northwestern parts of the US. Because I had no money, I devised a plan to pack food instead of eat out and camp instead of stay in hotels. Our journey would start with us heading south out of Wisconsin, driving straight-through to my grandparents home in Arkansas: a 15-hour endeavor that would propel us into our expedition. After a good nights sleep in comfortable beds and a hot breakfast, we would begin our westward journey, following Route 66 through Oklahoma, across the northern tip of Texas, into New Mexico, and eventually Arizona. After stopping at Taos and Choco Canyon Cultural National Park in New Mexico and the Grand Canyon in Arizona, we would then turn north and head up through Colorado and Wyoming, catching the very southern edge of Montana. We would stop at Mesa Verde and the Rocky Mountain National Park while in Colorado. And in Wyoming, we would be able to meet my husband in Sheridan and take him with us into Yellowstone before our last link in the journey would turn us eastward wherein we would complete our final hike back home. The night before our departure, I had noble plans to get to bed early in preparation for my next days early rise. However, that didnt happen. I was up late packing last minute items, checking the bins and bags I had already packed to ensure I had remembered everything, and going over my route and my maps repeatedly seemingly sure I was missing something in my plan. I had purchased Frommers Best RV & Tent Campgrounds in the U.S.A. and Rand McNallys most current Road Atlas. After a good deal of consideration, I had chosen and then

traced my entire route with a yellow highlighter on photo copies I had made of each of the states we would be traveling through. On another sheet, I typed-up specific directions for each days drive, as well as the name, address, and phone numbers of our potential campground destinations. I then laminated these sheets, put them in sequential order, and connected them in the left-hand corner with a ring. I made outlined itineraries for my family members as well so they would always know where I was going to be. This was necessary as they were all very concerned about this journey I was hell-bent to embark upon. It was 10pm when I remembered I needed to pull the truck into the garage for the night. Going out to the truck, I was high with anticipation. There was no doubt in my mind that taking my kids on this adventure was exactly what the five of us desperately needed. I jumped in the truck like it was an old friend, a near extension of my body, as if we had already journeyed together; however, rather than revving its powerful engine in unison with my war cry, it merely turned over and then nothing: clickclickclick. My battery was as dead as they get. My neighbor happened to be enjoying his last cocktail for the night when he heard me whining at the truck: Why? not now! Oh God Whats wrong with you? You were supposed to be reliable. Youre only two years old, you have absolutely no right to have any problems whatsoever! It was about at this point Larry came over in his jovial late-night intoxication and offered to jump my vehicle. Still seeming to be laughing at me, he told me that if he were heading out of town, he would bring his truck to the shop so he wouldnt end up stranded somewhere. He hooked up his battery charger and informed me that my battery seemed to be fine, which could only mean that my alternator was not. Somewhat depressed by this glitch in my planned escape, I shut the garage and tried to shut out his mocking face and laughter. I thought about an Abraham Lincoln quote Id recently heard on MPR: "We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses." At the time Id heard it, it did not resonate with meaning; but, in this moment, I heard its message carried great meaning. I decided to put that thought in my pocket as I most likely would be in need of it again. Mixed with trepidation and excitement, my exhaustion finally lead me to stack my papers and books neatly together by the door next to my wallet and keys and head for my bed. Just when I thought I might try to lay down and get a few hours of sleep, Rayna, who was still in pull-ups at night, came into my room complaining of pain when she peed. She then dropped her pull-up to show me spots of blood that stained the inner lining. And so it came to be that rather than jumping on the I90 South-bound that next morning, we would be going to urgent care just as soon as they opened and then racing to the auto shop hoping they would not only be willing to bump my vehicle in front of those who had an appointment, but that they also would have a new alternator on-handwhich they did. I left as any caged animal would given the opportunity. I had packed the necessary items of survival, loaded up the truck, managed to not forget any of my kids, and drove away with the

speed of hope propelling me down the interstate. By the way the speed of hope should not exceed roughly 74 MPH unless you want to pay for your hope straight out of the gate drivewaycage. Nope, not me, I wasnt going to let anything stop me from crossing as many state boarders as it would take to reach Hot Springs Village in Arkansas (its four states, to be exact). My excitement had dwindled to fatigue as the distance my eyes had to travel across great and incredibly boring plains, riddled by one farm after another. Look at the height of the corn, kids. Did you see how big that tractor was? How many cows did you count? After an hour of driving through this repetitive blur I conceded to their boredom and put a movie in the DVD player. Lucky kids; I never had such things when I was a kid and my parents drove me across the country what seemed like fifty million times. I spent my childhood living in a world all my creationin my head. I could play it out in dramatic ways, or romantically sad ways, or heroic ways, and best of all, I could go to this world anywhere and anytime. This is where I went on all these road trips. But then, like now, I was so relieved to be leaving, to be going somewhere else that nothing could bring me down. except unbearable fatigue. Why didnt I go to bed earlier? Argh!! Story of my life. But here, in this wide open expanse, I felt myself losing the adrenaline of leaving on the long stretch of highway I rolled over; in its replacement I felt myself drifting into deep contemplation. Who am I, is always my first question; you see, instead of diving into the vast world of my imagination, as I did when I was a child, I now could only go as far as self-reflection in a never ending attempt to understand how I got this old and how the hell I managed to wind up in the life Im in. Both factors threw me daily. My head would spin with confusion and dizziness brought on by sheer obscurity from any sort of understanding. What the hell happened? Am I actually responsible for how my life turned out? Did I do this to myself? And the most heavy-weighing, confusing, and jaw clenching of them all: Am I a bad mom? I looked in my rear view mirror and saw their little faces looking up at the DVD screen, mouths slack-jawed, ready for the next funny moment, their eyes gleaming from their last burst of laughter. My oldest sits next to me in the passenger seat. He has reclined his seat back within millimeters of Peters knees. He was apparently finding the video as funny as his younger siblings. Jack, you need to move your seat up, bud. If we get into a car accident your seat could break Petes knees.

I look again in my mirror. Am I crazy for taking them on this journey with me? I have no choice, so I look at Jesses $320 Britex car seat and give myself parent point for buying one of, if not the best, car seats on the market. I then look at the $400 Britex Pete sits strapped in and again add a few more points to my mom-o-meter score card. When I look at Rayna sitting in her booster seat, I force points my way by reassuring myself: Well, it is a Britex booster seat; plus, shes too old at six to be in a conventional five-point harness car seat. So often when Im driving I picture her little sweet head smashing into the glass window right after a car has lost control and hit us or Ive fallen asleep at the wheel and rolled the truck. Every time I see this image I instantly remind myself of all the innovative air bags our new truck has and how strong its frame is and how big and heavy we are compared with most other vehicles on the road.. Isnt their safety the reason why we spent all that money? The problem is that we spent more money on these safe items than what we had. Spending all that money on their safety adds points to my mom-o-meter score. Right? Well, it did at this moment because it had to. The lines on the pavement dotted past my vision like a hypnotizing dripdripdrip in my head, drumming out the beat of each little bump. The wind put pressure on the truck, forcing me to tilt my steering wheel off center. The cows looked sleepy. Lucky bastards, theyd close their eyes in mockery of my situation. The fields were neither brilliantly green nor interestingly brownthey were just there, something that vanishes from your vision due to a lack of implication. What do my kids need? dripdrip bumpbump Have I given it to them? dripdrip bumpbump Ive ruined them, havent I? dripdripbumpdrip They will never have the life they could have had had they had a better mother who knew how to make better decisions. dripdrip dripdripruined themdripdrip l God, I dont want them to feel my pain when they are my age. dripdrip bumpbumpdrip bumpdripdriproad killbumpdripdrip G-R-G-RG-R-G-RG-R-G-RG-R-G-RG-R-G-RG-R-G-RG-R-G-RG-R-G-R G-R-G-R

The loud, thought-shattering grind of my tires on the wake-up-youre-driving-off-theroad gooves brought me back to my present place. Sorry I thought such mean things about you cows. I actually feel sorry for you cause you see, Im leaving and youre still trapped. I look in my rear view mirror; looking at their frozen expressions, youd think time hadnt past. I glace at the clock hoping to find myself closer to the end of that days driving, but Im disappointed when I realize that only twelve minutes has passed. No, Peter, we are nowhere close to being there. God, I love my kids. Isnt that enough? My husband and I had just built our family a big, beautiful house that was only a few blocks from all our kids schools. We were surrounded by middle class neighbors: a bunch of doctors, one lawyer, a couple pharmacists, and many other professionals intermingled with successful blue collar workers. However, my marriage was falling apart, the house I had built was on the brink of being taken by the bank because the economys decline had led to many layoffs on the railroad. My husband was either completely unemployed or had to go out west to Wyoming in order to maintain any semblance of a paycheck. His unemployed times did not sit well with him and his perpetual leaving for work opportunities in Wyoming did not sit well with me (or the kids). Because we only had one child at school full time and the others were either only gone for part of the day or not at all, I was doing childcare at home in an effort to supplement our income in the most economical way possible. I desperately did not want to do childcare. I guess you could say that though Im very much in love with my children, Im definitely not the childcare provider type. Though I did a great job of stepping up to the job requirements, being a second mom to the kids I watched, I felt like it was slowly killing a piece of me each day. I was this pale and hollow statue, slowing crumbling piece-by-piece. To make matters worse, my husbands estranged daughter, who was 19 years old, had broken up with her boyfriend and unexpectedly ended up living with us in January to get away from him, his other girlfriend and the imagine of his other girlfriends soon-to-be bulging pregnant belly. She was mostly fine when my husband was around; but, when he would leave to go out west, she became horridhorrid to the kids, but especially horrid to me. I received little to no support from my husband who was more interested in pretending she was doing great and had convinced himself that all the negative reports that I would give him existed only in my headhis long-lost daughter could not end up with the personality of his ex-wife. He was finally in a position where he could reestablish their 6-year-asstranged relationship and it was easier to do this if I was just exaggerating and making the issues up versus dealing with the fact that his daughter might actually be a nasty person. This proved to put a breaking strain on our marriage. And on top of all of this, in June, after weeks and weeks of being terribly sick, I was diagnosed with Lymes disease and put on Doxycycline.

The kids sat in the middle of this tornado of grueling factors that made up the life I had made for themfor myself. I had to go on this trip. My life, my world, was crumbling around me. The old happy-golucky me had morphed into a very sad, angry, and extremely insecure person whose sense of self-worth was nothing more than the last dying ember of what was once a magnificent bonfire of power, hope, and self-assured confidence. Once I had conceived the idea, I was fixated by the possibilities that awaited us; I had lived my days imagining what we would see and how each place would smell and how the sun, rain, and wind would feel on my face and in my hair. These faraway places had been out of my reach for so long and now I was just going to reach out and grab them. I wasnt dreaming anymore, I was doing! At night, I had gotten lost in these places. I saw tall mountains standing against time, rising up to meet God at His level. I smelled the heat emanating from the red rocks basking in the torrid dessert sun. I could feel the wind pull wisps of hair from my ponytail only to engage them in an ancient tribal dance around my face. Each morning was one day closer to freedom.

-----Driving down the road I am filled with both exhilaration and fear. If something were to happen, I had no monetary resources to back me up. I had legitimate reasons to worry as I knew all too well that things happenbad thingssometimes the worst

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