Drive Therapy: My Month in Michigan.

Emma, Ella and Princess; well, actually, they're all princesses.
Photo taken shortly after my arrival.

It was the end of June and I was hell bent on leaving South Fort Myers to see my son, DIL and granddaughters in Michigan. Then we would drive the rest of the way to Michigan's western Upper Peninsula to see my parents and stay about a week. I would be gone a total of two or three weeks.

I drive because I WILL NOT travel without my dogs during hurricane season. They're all I have in this cold (no HOT), lonely world. 

I was going to rent a car, but my freelance work had dried up and I didn't have money for anything beyond gas and motel rooms. It was drive my 15 year old Saturn POS (piece of shit) or don't go at all.

I was getting severely depressed. Staying home alone was not an option. I was coming off an intense relationship where Mr. Wonderful had turned into Mr. Hyde overnight. I don't think I've ever felt more blindsided.

The travel adrenaline started to kick in after an oil change and a night spent packing my bags. In the morning I grabbed the dogs and hit the road. I abandoned all hope of resolving things with Mr. Hyde. The burden of that load did not lessen in the miles that lay before me.

One of my friends suggested I do the drive in three days and two nights. He called to check my progress and said "it's time to pull over and get some rest." I listened to him. He was right - but it took more time and more money.

Still, it's a good idea to get there alive.

The heat was intense most of the way. In the Smokey Mountains I had to choose between AC and third gear. It didn't seem a little cooler until the morning we woke up in Ohio. My girls developed a true affinity for motels. That morning Princess stepped into the tub to take a shower with me.

I was packing them back into the car when my purse banged into the door; my phone auto-dialed Mr. Hyde. I freaked in my urgency to end the call.

A few moments later I got a text. "Change your mind?" Like he was sitting on the phone.

Was this random dial some act of God? Was there any hope for us? Understand that I'd spent two full days listening to country music. If you like country, a two or three day drive is not so bad. If you're recovering from a breakup, it's therapy. I cried, I let it out, I got my mourn on.

Take a moment to listen to these. Imagine driving 1350 miles with this as the soundtrack of your life ...

Kelly Clarkson & Reba McEntire - Because Of You
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tYQYFbn0ag

Colbie Caillat - I Never Told You
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YtzsUdSC_I

I texted back a lie - I was fine. I apologized for the "butt call".

Understand that there had been no communication for several weeks. And none of my attempts to ease his hostililty had helped.

He responded that his life was "rotten" and it seemed like he thought I'd be happy about that. I said I was in Ohio (where he's from) and was sad to be there without him. We had planned on driving up together.

I opened a floodgate of love and sadness that would have softened a heart of stone; then I felt the "snap" of the trap.

He unleashed incredible venom. I responded with honest words that guaranteed finality and was still shaking when I pulled into my son's driveway four hours later.

Shawn was in the middle of remodeling. He had just put hardwood floors in and everything else was up against the walls. He took one look at the dogs and I could tell he was upset. They would scratch the floors or pee on the floors or gack on the floors.

THEY WOULD NOT.

I didn't realize he was just generally upset. They'd been going through the remodeling nightmare for four months and had been living like mice surrounded by boxes in two crowded bedrooms. I joked to Asha that's what it must have have been like in Communist Poland.

Asha and the girls were delighted to see me. Emma is taller, going through a bit of a dorky stage with her braces. She was also engaging in some drama that was causing problem for her parents. We had a little chat about that. Ella is going through a stage of beauty and attitude. She's deliciously devious. 

We attempted to relax with each other for the next four days. Then we headed out to see Grandma and Grandpa. The drive from Grass Lake to Bruce Crossing, Michigan takes about 9 or 10 hours. We left around 7 p.m. in order to miss the Fourth of July traffic jams;  three adults, three dogs (my two little ones and Shawn's gassy lab), and two girls. Shawn has a big SUV so it's movies and garbage food all the way. He and Asha drive, I talk them through.

I stayed up all that dark, moonless night. The horizon was growing light when we pulled up to the folks' house on 80 acres bordered by state lands. This is the land my Finnish great grandparents bought in the early 1900s.

It should feel like home, but it doesn't.

The headlights of the SUV exaggerated grass that had grown knee deep. My heart sank. Mom's about 75, Grandpa (my stepfather) is about 85 and in poor health. They're getting too old to do their own mowing in the summer; it will get worse when the snows come. Snow falls so heavy some people have to shovel their roofs or they'll collapse. My parents have plow blade gouges on the siding of their outbuildings; Grandpa's driving isn't what it once was.

Mom was smiling at the porch rail in a big poofy chenille robe. I wondered where Grandpa was ...

The dogs poured out of the SUV and peed like racehorses. Shawn and I got out stiff from sitting - everyone else in the vehicle was still half asleep. I think it was 5 a.m.

We walked in and Grandpa was slumped in a soft chair gray as death. I nearly walked back out to cry. His face was limp like a corpse and he raised one trembling hand, so happy to see Shawn. He was in his second month of an infection - too weak to stand, so Shawn bent over to give him a hug.

Grandpa loves Shawn more than anyone in this world. Grandpa was God's gift to me and my son. He was the only responsible male role model in Shawn's life.

My stepfather was in the Navy, stationed at Pearl Harbor immediately after the tragedy. He helped the Reuther brothers establish the UAW. He carried a gun in the old days. He marched with Martin Luther King in Selma. (That picture hangs on my wall.) He was close friends with Victor and Sophie Reuther at Black Lake; Shawn's first song as a little boy was "Solidarity Forever."

Mom at the Fourth of July fireworks in Bruce Crossing.

My stepfather is also the best thing that ever happened to my mother, but she's slow to admit it. She would not be living her easy life without him. She would not be living in a beautiful home with beautiful new cars. She would not be living in Bruce Crossing; that was her idea.

There is a strange denial when someone close to us is very sick. She pretty much refused to see that my beloved Grandmother had dementia for many years, claiming she was playing games. During our visit she resented all of my stepfather's requests for assistance. The man could not stand or walk without help.  When she snapped at him, Shawn and I exchanged glances like "we can't take too much of this; one of us is going to have to say something."

I asked her about his illness when the timing was right. I said "he doesn't seem like he has long to live." Once I actually cried while talking about it and she said "I'm not there yet." (??) Sometimes I was able to shake her back to the truth of what is, but it never lasted long.

Fortunately, our visit made him want to regain his strength. By the time we left he was moving with a little more confidence.

Grandpa (middle) with cronies after the Fourth of July parade.

Ella, Asha, Shawn & Yours Truly after the parade.

We just generally hung out in Bruce Crossing for a week.

Shawn and I fought twice - which is unheard of. We haven't fought since his birth. Once it was about my dogs, the second ... I can't even remember. Both fights were loud and ugly. Our excuses to fight were more of a reaction of the stress of what was going on around us (the obvious frailty of Grandpa) our own sense of responsibility for them, our own fears as to how it will end up and Shawn's stress about contractor issues and returning to a half-finished home.

I had nightmares. I don't like it there. Nature is nature, but this is wilderness. Bears ransacked their porch a few months back. We took a gun when we walked because there are cougars and wolves. I could not live in a place like that.

If/when my stepfather dies, my mother will probably want to stay. She has a large antique shop and quite a following; but she's 1700 miles from me. Do I sacrifice my life for hers? Or will she move downstate.

I searched match for signs of intelligence and was surprised by what I found. Maybe that's where the real men hide. Who knows.

Who knows anything.

I took the time to go through her extensive genealogy records. Years ago I had promised that when she was done, I would take her "bones" and put meat on them. She devoted 20 years of her life to research and it was all there in front of me. Nothing so easy as computer files, of course!

I took notes, made copies, made sure I had the line right. I started my research there.  Mom suddenly came to life, laughing and smiling. Someone - me - was actually going to take her work to the next level.

It's exciting work and I'm learning so much. Please check my blog for tease bits and pieces -http://www.americanwyatts.com/

I read some actual content to my writers meetup group and they said it was interesting whether you're related or not.

We left Grandma & Grandpa better than we found them. When we got back to Shawn's house I kept saying I was going to leave and Asha kept saying "no you're not." So I stayed another 2 1/2 weeks.

I had a long talk with Shawn. I told him no 90 year old ever looked back on his life and mourned scratches on his hardwood floors. I said stuff is stuff. He should try living somewhere where it could all blow away. That mindset puts your priorities where they should be.

I left about five days before their departure for Poland to see her family.

I wasn't sad on the drive back, I was going home. For some reason, none of the stations had sad songs and Tennessee (which usually scares me a little) felt like hills instead of mountains; I got the drive done in two days and one night.

I was so happy to be home I gossiped with neighbors for a bit before going to bed. One gave me my mail. During my absence Mr. Hyde had dropped one of my DVDs in my mailbox. I sent him a quick thank-you. That drama may continue for a time. I don't now and now I don't care.

I have just enough work to squeak by financially for the time being and a wealth of research and writing to satisfy my soul.

It's weird to say "home" is a place where your family isn't. I wish they lived here. But we have skype and I'll be ba-ack.