I was on my way to Winslow by myself, which let’s face it, is pretty rare these days. Wearing blue jeans, shirtsleeves rolled up, and sandals. You can still wear sandals here in late October. I’m headed to my mom and dad’s house, to go through some of my mom’s things. My brother and sister-in-law will arrive late in the day with two dogs in tow.
My mom’s been dead for four years so this is a trip long in the making. If you know me at all, you know it hasn’t been easy. My relationship with my dad has hit a lot of potholes since my mom passed away. And, at least part of the tension has been over the fact that (I think) we’re long overdue for getting together as a family to make some decisions.
And I don’t know if I even believe in such a thing as closure. It sounds suspect to me. Undesirable even. How can I close what I want to remain open? But I do think there is a process for moving forward, and I’d prefer making active choices rather than avoiding any choice at all. One thing’s for sure she’s not coming back.
I just want us to be all together when we decide.
So through sheer force of will on my part, and stubborn refusal to let it go, this moment now presents itself. But now that it’s here I’m feeling tentative. For one thing, I’m not sure how I’ll feel on the other side. I mull all of this over in the car.
I decide I’ll make a stop in Flagstaff to get a coffee and focus myself before the final leg of the trip. Also I’d better change out of my sandals, and into boots, because the temperature in flagstaff will only be in the 50’s.
I find parking just down the street from an old coffee shop and hop out in the chilly air to walk around to the trunk to retrieve my boots, but I can’t find them. Crap. I’ve accidentally left my boots back in Phoenix!
“Girl you need boots if you are in Flag! It’s cold there!” says a friend via Instagram where I’ve already opened the moment up to the public.
“I know. I’m wearing sandals and a jacket.”
“Left my boots back in Phoenix’ was on Winslow’s KINO country yesterday mornin’n” says another friend. Referencing my old high school job as a disc-jockey for the AM country radio station in my hometown.
And it’s not lost on me that I literally have cold feet! I’ve managed to make this trip with sandals as my only form of footwear.
My mom never would have made an error like this. She took multiple pairs of shoes with her for even the shortest of trips.
Later, once I get to Winslow, I dig up an old pair of white sneakers abandoned in the bedroom where I sleep when I am visiting home. So it will be ok. I will get by. Much like how we handle the rest of the weekend. We’re ok. We are getting by. Still got a long way to go.
I think of a song Emerson came up with one time, bored, in the backseat of the car.
It’s a sad road to Winslow
Driving on highway 40,
Eating hot tamales in the car…