SC to OH to MO to CO

Well, our epic adventure is off to an epic start!

As a solo mom of a child warrior, yeah, I’m exhausted, but we like our adventures infused with the max dose of silly, playful, and dangerous near-misses possible.

What’s life without it?

Roll with it (aka, everything’s adaptable)

Warning: If you are bored by timelines, you might want to skip this part.

My initial plan was for us to leave for Seattle Thurs 3/23 after her final SC blood transfusion on Weds 3/22. Her last soccer game was supposed to be Sat 3/18.

Except her match got rained out. We were all super bummed.

When I realized her last ballet class would be Wed 3/22 (same day as her blood transfusion) and she’d miss her chance to say goodbye to the studio, just like she missed her last soccer game with her team, I asked the Hem/Onc team to move her transfusion to Thursday 3/23, and my plan morphed for us to depart SC on Fri 3/24.

One day wouldn’t change our timeline that much… I logged into our hotel reservations and made the changes.

Then I realized a Friday departure would mean we’d be leaving town just a few hours before her team’s next soccer game Sat 3/25. If we stayed just a few more hours in SC, she could still get in a last game with her team.

Did we really need to be on the road before Saturday?

No.

So I shifted everything again.

This gives you an idea of what things are like around here:

Detailed planning and continual re-adjustments to maximize play and friendship.

Soccer & Ice-Skating Farewells

Adahlia had an amazing last soccer practice and a great final game with her team. The girls lost but played hard and with great teamwork. The team presented Adahlia with a couple “best wishes” gifts for her procedure - a signed soccer ball and a super-soft blanket in soccer ball pattern. I cried, naturally. We will miss them all so much!

At first, I thought we might be able to depart Saturday after her match, but I quickly realized that that would be impossible. The plan shifted to Sunday, but Sunday was a day of cold rain. I can’t tell you how many times I went up and down our stairs that weekend - but my back and legs say it was “too many.” After working hard all Sunday morning, and feeling rather low about leaving our friends, I decided that we needed a break. I decided we needed to go ice skating - to seize our last chance to ice skate for at least a year.

So, we went to the rink and spent a little over an hour just going around-and-around-and-around over the ice together, enjoying the unique sort of peace that can be found in gliding and spinning (once you master and move beyond the constant slipping and falling). When we returned home, our ice skates went into a box in the garage to be mailed to us at a future date, and I resumed packing and organizing.

That evening, as twilight moved into darkness, the rain paused for 30 minutes. It just long enough for me to load our rooftop car carrier with bins and boxes of supplies for transplant. (Anything needed for the trip would ride with us in the car). I was zipping it up and securing the tie downs when the drizzle resumed. By 9 pm, I was soaked but the rooftop carrier was secure, and solar lights were strung in our backyard for guests. (We are renting our house out while we are gone - mortgages still need paid, after all).

I decided it was possible that we could leave Monday, but there was still much to do. A team of 3 girlfriends had come over the week prior to help with projects around the house (such as hanging curtains, cleaning out the fridge, taking live plants home, and securing furniture), and if they hadn’t, we might still be in SC! I may have never felt so loved as when 3 women showed up with power tools, stepladders, minivans, cooler bags, and so much willingness to be there for me… It was a wonderful gift of love I’ll never forget, and wonderful for my daughter to witness, as well. They are an inspiration.

By Monday, however, there were still a million little details (like the kitchen “junk drawer” - full of pencils and rubber bands - which ended up being unceremoniously dumped into a small box). Task by task, I went about each project, including making a guest Welcome Book (thanks to a friend who dropped off some page protectors the night before), and all the final boxing, labeling, clearing and storing. Shortly after noon, Adahlia and I drove out to FedEx to ship a few boxes of items (mostly cat supplies) to ourselves for our future arrival in Colorado (where we are currently and will hand our “fluffy babies” off to other incredible friends). When we returned home from FedEx, I could see the light.

Finally, at approximately 5:30 pm, I was loading 2 very concerned cats into the car. Adahlia played with neighborhood kids on a hammock as I took pictures of our home.

And then we were off.

As stressful as that final week in SC was for us, I am grateful to witness just how amazing our friends are, and to know how blessed we are to have people like them in our lives. I am grateful that I was able to be strong enough to get it all done, and flexible enough to prioritize “the human factor” of life amidst the chaos and daunting task lists. I don’t regret taking the break on Sunday to go ice skating, for example. I will always treasure the memory of that skating session together. I am grateful for the last-minute play dates, the “why not” sleepovers, bonus soccer games and ballet classes. I am grateful that she was able to attend school through 3rd quarter and proud that she was able to achieve all As this year - that she came to know the payoff and pride of hard work.

Our task lists are important. We all have milestones that must be met if we are going to make it to our destinations. But “the human factor” is what makes the journey worth it. Finding enjoyment should always be a priority; flexibility and adaptability allow us to know spontaneous happiness even in stressful times. I believe we are placed in each other’s paths for unknowable reasons. And yet, when we bring our best selves to our interactions with each other, sometimes the reasons become known.

Dublin, Ohio

We drove (I drove, she slept) straight through the night to Dublin, Ohio. It was a peaceful night drive through North Carolina, Virginia, and West Virginia. Apparently, barely anyone drives through the Appalachian mountains in the wee hours of Monday nights. (Except that guy with the white Mustang covered in fake blood, which was kind of freaky.)

As we crossed out of West Virigina, a coyote with a fluffy tail loped across the freeway right in front of our car. An hour or so later, as we drove through southern Ohio, a young buck ran across the highway. I was the interloper in their wild, night world. Magic.

Through it all, Adahlia slept.

Without anyone else to muse to, I spent some time amusing myself with the new Ohio slogan stretched across the freeway: “Find It Here.” I thought of all the things that actually can’t be found in Ohio, like “real” mountains, ocean beaches, and big-city glamour. I then spent some time giving it credit for all the things you can find…

Like, your family.

We arrived around 2 am Tuesday 3/28. For the next day and a half, we visited relatives. Adahlia loved playing with her younger cousins; it was nice to see how they are all growing up. Knowing that Adahlia, a very physical kid, won’t get to play with other children for awhile hurts my heart. Imagining her body being too painful to play hurts even more. It remains important to me that she gets every chance to swing with other kids, to jump with them, and generally… be a messy, muddy, raucous, “physical” kid.

On Wednesday night, we went to a nice dinner at Z Cucina with her grandparents and cousins, and Adahlia ordered as many scallops as she wanted. Yes, scallops. Scallops are currently her favorite dish. Just before we left, we were surprised by the waitstaff, who brought her a special tiramisu dessert along with their well-wishes for transplant.

Going to transplant could be described as a rollercoaster, but it is more like being strapped to the front of a semi-truck and being pelted with large insects as it drives through the Appalachian night: it is painful, nauseating, terrifying, and frankly, unbelievable. But good arises in it like it does from all hardship, and it does my soul good to see how beautiful strangers can be when they hear about the trials this courageous kid faces and will endure. My heart bloomed for Adahlia as she savored her “special dessert." Silently, I showered the staff and kitchen with blessings for their kindness.

PS: See that necklace I am wearing? It is a gold heart with a diamond outline that says “mom” in cursive script. Adahlia bought it for me for Christmas this past year, because is adorable and amazing and generous and just so incredibly GOOD.

Indiana

Thursday 3/30 saw us back on the road again. We drove four hours and ended up at a hotel that was surprisingly busy for a Thursday in the middle of … well, several freeways. The common areas of hotel were so packed that even though I had partially chosen the hotel for its swimming pool, I vetoed an after-dinner dip in favor of the peace of our hotel room. Adahlia agreed. It was a good thing, too, because the next morning we saw a sign on the door to the pool: “Temporarily Closed.” I can only imagine what was spilled in the water.

The most memorable part of this stop was the fact that we almost lost Adahlia’s striped cat, Lily Boo. While unloading the car, I set our two cat carriers on the luggage cart and moved around to the other side. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flurry of movement and… could it be?… a paintbrush tail, as if someone had dipped a cat’s dark tail in a can of orange paint. It was indeed, Lily, next to the rear car tire and then gone again, dashing back and forth underneath the car, trying to determine a safe place to run.

I froze. Unlike Okami, Lily does not consistently come when called. When we cannot find her, she also does not meow to let us know where she is. Unhelpfully, her preferred course of action when freaked out is to dash and hide. She is food motivated, but only when she feels safe. I knew that if she took off between the cars in the hotel parking lot, or ran off into the fields, she would only run farther if we chased after her.

There would be no way to catch her. Divine intervention would be the only saving grace.

Yet, we couldn’t abandon Adahlia’s kitten (we still think of her as a kitten - Okami raised her) in a random hotel parking lot in Indiana. We simply couldn’t keep going until we found her. And if she was hit by a car or lost… Adahlia would be devastated.

I scrambled like a crab on the pavement, calling to a nearby (and curious) hotel guest for assistance in keeping Lily herded underneath our car. We had to keep her close.

Luckily, Lily turned out to be every bit as smart as she is impetuous. As the male stranger approached the front of the car and I came around the back, she reached the sound realization that the only safe place for her in Indiana would be back INSIDE her vehicle. She leaped into the open driver’s side door (thank God, I’d left it open) and the man shouted, “She’s inside! She jumped back inside the car!”

Quickly, I ran around to the driver’s side. After briefly noting her wide eyes as she crouched in my seat, I shut the door on her. Then, feeling a bit impetuous myself, I tackled that total stranger in a bear hug. While I am not typically a loud praiser of the Heavens, I exclaimed in gratitude and he happily echoed me. It was our very own revival. I nearly started crying.

And that night, I ordered a more secure cat carrier for our little Houdini.

St. Louis

The next morning saw us driving out of Indiana and across Missouri.

It also happened to be a day a massive, deadly storm surged through the Midwest and Southern United States, spawning tornados that killed approximately 30 people.

But, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Around noon, we neared the city of St. Louis. Adahlia and I have driven past St. Louis a couple times in the past few years, and I’d pointed out the arch from the car, but until now, we’d never stopped to see it. I called ahead to the Gateway Arch and found out that they were still hosting tram tours to the top, despite the severe weather. I was astonished. But what could be more memorable than riding to the top of a massive, metal national landmark under a tornado watch?

I got us reservations for 2 pm.

After a quick bite in the Arch cafe, Adahlia and I boarded South Tram car number 8 to the top of the arch. Our tram car clicked and whirred and we rocked back and forth like in a ferris wheel as we were brought steadily higher within the metal structure. As we exited our tram car, we then found ourselves swaying in yet another, and what felt to be a very precarious, way. It was hard not to imagine the metal groaning and cracking a la the Titantic and the arch plummeting (with ourselves inside it) 630 feet to the ground below.

The above video is fun for 2 reasons 1) if you listen closely, you can hear a boy screaming: “Why is it moving?!?!” and 2) I ask Adahlia to give me a peace sign and she refuses.

As unsettling as it was, we did get some priceless photos as the sky cleared and the bridge leaned us out over the city and river… in fact, we discovered that if we angled the camera correctly, we could actually see under the arch to view the arch legs beneath us.

It was an exhilarating visit, certainly made more interesting by the high winds. We were not uneager to hear the announcement that we needed to board our return tram and get back to solid ground. We giggled and issued dire warnings to the people who exited the tram at the top as we hopped aboard to ride away to safety.

In fact, the severe weather was just getting started. For the next few hours, we drove through high winds, dark swirling clouds, sudden rain, and even hail. Adahlia swore she saw a tornado forming at one point, and some cars even pulled off the freeway.

But we kept going, and by 7:30 pm, we were in Kansas City Missouri.

Kansas City, MO

We kind of love Kansas City.

Ok, we love it.

We love its architecture, its streetcar, its art scene, and its food.

In fact, we lived in downtown KCMO for 9 months, fully embracing “City Girl” life until the Pandemic sent me scurrying for a home with a little more fresh air (we couldn’t open our apartment windows) and a little less shared handles and elevator buttons.

But we miss it. We miss taking the streetcar to go ice skating and visit the Aquarium at Crown Center and jumping on it for Bolings Chinese food and shopping at the River Market. I miss the ease of hopping on the streetcar to go to concerts at the Kaufmann Center, and the flurry of pigeons as we strolled (or scootered) to the Downtown library. We miss racing down the sidewalks on our scooters (much to the amusement of the pedestrians) and setting up mini soccer nets in Oak Park to work on our skills. We miss feeling engaged and part of a vibrant, bustling, and artistic neighborhood.

I was lucky to nab us a room at the very cool 21c Museum Hotel. Amazingly, we arrived on their First Friday Art Gallery’s opening night (yes, their lobby is an art gallery). As we checked in, well-dressed people flowed around us holding elegant cocktails aloft, generally being fabulous. Our hotel also happened to have a superb restaurant (The Savoy) that reminded us of Hogwarts dining hall… and served Adahlia more scallops.

Our cats love Kansas City. Well, Lily does, as she was born on a Missouri farm just outside the city, where Adahlia went to Spring Break Horse Camp just as COVID bore down on us all. I think she has fond memories of her kittenhood and sitting in the windows staring at pigeons and people.

As soon as we woke in KCMO, we hopped on scooters and went down the block to Banksia. They have the truly BEST vanilla custard fruit tarts we’ve ever had (Adahlia has tried many, believe me) and the BEST Pavlova, as well. (Hint: there’s no chocolate in the best pavlovas!)

We rode our buddy, the streetcar, to the Aquarium and Adahlia made a new friend in a cleaner shrimp, who eagerly stretched out his little arms to touch Adahlia’s fingertips. I as able to pay a visit to my own personal favorite friends, the weedy sea dragons, and we designed and launched our own fish into a virtual aquarium. We spent the afternoon at Union Station’s Science City, playing with various science explorations, and watched Laser Taylor Swift at their Planetarium. Then we rode the streetcar to our old market, Consentino’s to pick up some desserts, and ordered Jack Stack’s KC barbeque to our hotel room for dinner.

The next day, before we left, we raced the streetcar from stop to stop on our scooters (we won both times!) and indulged in more of our favorite foods from Banksia (I recommend the Nicoise Salad and Chicken Bahn Mi baguette, and of course the aforementioned pastries!). Before we left town, we brought our picnic lunch and cats to one of our favorite playgrounds, Roanoke Park, where we let the cats climb a natural rock outcropping and Adahlia and enjoyed the rope play structure and ziplines.

By 1:30 pm, we were on the freeway again, headed west to Colorado.

Longmont, Colorado

It was late at night, of course, by the time we arrived “home.”

We feel like we have many homes now, and so many friends scattered across the United States, which is the perk of moving so frequently. As we jostled into Colorado (what IS up with the freeway turning into a series of bumps as soon as you leave Kansas?) we knew we were “home.”

I am glad I built a period of rest here into our travel plans. We were both relieved to give our bodies and minds some down-time from nomadic life and the sense that we must keep moving because there is someplace else we must go. We have time for Adahlia to catch up on her school work, to make home repairs and home-cooked meals, and to generally allow ourselves to feel “at home” before we must move into hospital care.

Life is always moving, flowing forwards, not backwards. We are making the most of this time, enjoying the rest even as it is edged with stress, because we have each other, and life becomes even more valuable when you know each experience is temporary.

We are so grateful for all our very dear and “keeper” friends. Friends whom, regardless of race or belief (because our heart-friends cross all boundaries of race and religion), have a certain spark that we recognize as kindred. Our dear friends are simultaneously soft and strong, bold and gentle, and they show up braver than their fear.

We love you, our fellow lights in the darkness, our brave and beautiful friends.

Thank you for joining us here.