There has been a stretch since I last wrote. The coronavirus spread, the state was locked down further, things felt worse than better.
Life didn't seem to the accept restrictions in our local community and around the country.
And then a white officer kneeled on the neck of a black man during an arrest, prolonged with such racial bias, that he died. Coronavirus was forgotten momentarily and racism swelled.
There were riots in my city. There were riots around my country. The current leader of our nation did not unite but chose to divide. And tensions grew. And anger grew. And violence grew. It's been a rough couple of days for me. It's been decades of pain and suffering for those in the black community. I'm glad change is here. It needs to happen. I hope it stays. And grows.
Two weeks ago we decided we needed a break. The kids needed a break, I needed a break, so did husband. We needed a change of scenery.
Upon telling our children that we would head to the north Georgia mountains, it only took five minutes for them to find blank paper and sketch out the interior of our van and the packing that they would do for the road trip. They love road trips as much as I do. Their adventuresome spirit is bucket filling.
Yesterday, on the last day of school, instead of packing backpacks and taking pictures outside, we woke them quietly at 3:45 AM. We stuffed them into a fully packed van, and by the light of a full moon and just the creeping edges of dawn on its way, we headed south.
I took the first shift. There's something peaceful about driving at that time of day. No one is around, save a few semi drivers. The world is quiet. After the civil unrest of the last few days, I appreciated a quiet world.
Upon arrival in a very small border town between Indiana and Ohio, we stopped for gas and to change drivers. I, grabbing the kids, headed inside, chucking the keys on the driver seat and shouted at my dear husband that's where they were as we crossed the parking lot. Five seconds later he shrieked. Somehow, oddly, all four doors were locked.
And yes, the keys were inside.
He looked at me with panic, I shrieked back with panic. Both of us trying not to blame the other but wondering how a completely unlocked vehicle had now four locked doors and no keys.
I thought about ripping a back window off, my mind raced, and for some reason I yanked on the back tailgate.
The darn thing opened.
It opened!!!
Shrieks now came from our children plastered against the side of the truckstop for fear that their parents were about ready to lose their bologna. And they came running across the parking lot. Little KK crawl through the back over the luggage, delicately avoiding breakable items on the floor and unlocked the door to save the day.
Bubba commented that he, volunteering as tribute, would be staying in the car for the rest of the trip. We assured him that we would have better practices in place. 7 AM Friday morning, middle of nowhere, crisis averted.
Joy still comes in the morning.
For now, fresh off the lake, resting as the summer sun begins to warm the north Georgia mountains enough that my delicate flower of children find it too hot, I'm right at home. My BFF is around the corner.
Social emotional health, mental health, soul healing health… Call it what you will, we found it.
I'll take it.
