Dallying before the road

I’m leaving today to drive down to Kentucky to see my Mom. It’ll be the first time I’ve seen her since Christmas. I’ll get to have lunch with her tomorrow in her new facility, and then spend part of the afternoon with her.

It’s a 10 hour drive, so I’m leaving today. I’m finishing packing now, but I’m also dallying. It’s not the length of the drive. I love to drive, and I love to drive on the highway. A whole day of driving, listening to music, sounds awesome. Road trip.

It’s not really about the purpose of the trip, either, I think. I mean, I’m sad about what’s happening, and I’m grieving for my mom, but I’m also excited to see her, and I’m looking to find some closure. I’ve got an open wound, and this is part of the healing. Writing this has gotten me crying again.

No, I’m dallying because it seems reckless. We just found out that we could go visit, and this opening in our schedules just materialized in the last couple of days. Maybe that’s why it feels reckless, the idea hasn’t had enough time to sink in. But no one is trying to stop me, in fact everyone is supporting and encouraging me, which tells me that the feeling of recklessness is within me.

I was crying a lot yesterday, and found myself cradling my bandana like a stuffie while I worked. And when that thought occurred to me, I thought about all the adult autists I’ve met over the last couple of years who proudly still carry their stuffies with them for support, and I thought, I need a stuffie. When I was a kid, I had a stuffed rabbit named Roxy who was given to me one Easter and quickly became my best friend, going with me wherever I went. I needed Roxy.

And because my mother hoarded the past like a dragon, she saved Roxy, long after I had forgotten her. When my kids were born, she came visiting with a big bag of my old stuffed animals that she had saved, and there in the bag was Roxy. And because my office is now in the playroom, when I had my realization that I wanted Roxy, all I had to do was turn around and cross the room, and there she was, waiting for me. Because my mother had saved her and brought her to me.

Thanks for always looking out for me, Mom. The phone says it’s time to go. Roxy and I will see you soon.