Jessica, Part Two

A month has passed.

She’s been through a lot.

And now another long weekend with unpaid furlough days is being foisted upon me for the 4th of July.

I want to see her.

I go to every travel website, trying to make it come true.  The logistics suck.

No matter if I fly into Charlotte, or wherever, I still need to rent a car and drive two hours.  She’s going to have chemo, I can’t rely on them to take the time to get me to the airport, the trip isn’t about me, it’s about her.

I agonize. The tickets are $600 without the car, which is $200 more.

I simply don’t have that.

I’m talking again to J, and we are bouncing things off each other, as we do.  He knows I want to see her.  Knows how important she is.

“If you can get here, I’ll drive you”, he says.

I stop, think, look up tickets to ATL.  I can afford *those*.  And the $200.00 for the rental car goes away...

You’d really do that?

“Yes.”

So, I book the tickets at the very last minute.  

“Where will we stay he asks?”

I don’t know, I say.  We’ll figure it out.  Let’s just go, I know we can figure out something there.  He’ll pay for our food, I’ve got the gas.  We always split things like this.  It works for us.

I give my boss next to no notice that I’ll be taking time off, and hastily get ready.

I almost miss my flight, but don’t, and as soon as I’m board - I feel lighter.

My old ways of over-planning everything, needing everything in order before I can feel peace, are gone.  Instead as my lover asks me the reasonable questions of: “what time are we leaving on Friday”, “When do you want to come back”, and things like this.  I only say, let’s go when we go, and we’ll call them when we are on the way - that’s five hours advance notice - and we’ll get there when we get there and do whatever we do once we are there.  Of course, this is entirely OK with him.

So, we go rock climbing when I arrive, because, well, why not?  And I meet his rock climbing group over pizza and beers after I let them hold the end of a rope that kept me from plummeting in exactly the way that a sheep who thinks it is a bird does.  I like them.  They are fun.  We head home at a reasonable time, and get some sleep, and J has to work in the morning for a few hours, so we’ll leave after that.

As for me, I’m tired.  I catch up for months of sleep deprivation whenever I’m around him.  He went off to work in the AM, and I didn’t wake up until almost noon to a note that read: “at work, sleep well, home around lunch.”  I woke to a stretch and a smile and started puttering to get ready what I would need for the trek to the Carolinas.

We set off in the afternoon and I gave the heads-up call to Jessica, found out that we had no real place to stay, and that didn’t bother us a bit.  There is always a tent in the trunk, and we are welcome to pitch it in the front yard.  Accommodation issues resolved.

The traffic was ridiculous, as usual, and we decided of course to get off the highway on the first scenic trail we saw and take it instead of the freeway.  We went a bit out of our way, but enjoyed the majestic mountains and foothills as we sojourned Northward.  We had a bunch of snacks: cheese, wine, grapes, pistachios, crackers, and nibbled as we drove on in complete comfort.  We took a brief pit stop for “dinner” at a park near Table Mountain, and sat there at the closed visitors’ center nibbling and swinging on the porch swing while watching the Sun set.  We got in a few hours late, but we pitched the tent together in the dark in silent cooperation, and readied ourself and our ‘room’ for the night.

We drove around Boone the next day, and saw “the sights”, but being the 4th, everything was so crowded with parades, etc.  So, we didn’t really park or stay, just drove and then went home.  The boys were wonderful, and J and I thoroughly enjoyed caring for them and lightening a bit of Jessica’s load.  Stories for nap time, and loooong walks were the order of the day; and of course, closely monitored play time in the tent - what little boy can resist the allure of a real live tent in the yard? - certainly not little Q.  The boys were well behaved, and completely worn out by the end of the day, once we were through with them.

J was wonderful, and vacuumed and mopped every inch of the house to prepare for her to come home from her next round of chemo, And we took turns rubbing her feet and generally helping out wherever we could, at times, it was pretty frustrating, but in general, we enjoyed more moments than we didn’t; and I feel that Jessica enjoyed both of our company.

In all, she still looks beautiful.  Yes, she has scars now where before she had none.  Yes, she really is way too skinny.  Yes, she still looks beautiful without hair.  And her sense of humour is completely intact.  She is unbowed, and indomitable.  I’m so proud, and I am filled with humble joy that she counts me as a close friend.  I look at little Q: the peanut I delivered into this world, and I just want to hug and hold him.  And little O, so cranky, but so sweet, I want to teach him how not to shmush every little bug we are watching: fascinated, and to simply watch as well.  I only wish I lived closer.

The time to depart came too soon, and again we chose adventure rather than a direct, speedy route home.  So, we drove through Asheville, and I visited Jen, an old friend whom I hadn’t seen in 23 years.

We met up at a coffee house, and chatted a bit; then she told us about the botanical garden nearby, and of course we had to go.  As we crossed the bridge over the stream that meanders through the garden, J scampered down the side, kicked off his shoes and went wading.  I’m smiling again as I recall this, we are both like little kids.  I gingerly made my way down an earthen stair and joined him in the cool water, and I picked my way between and over rocks to avoid hurting my tender feet as I stepped along the bottom.  Everywhere was lush vegetation, and the light sprinkle of rain only added to the scent of the cool, silver air.  The leaves were speckled in the dew and the birds flitted to the feeder above our heads.

Then we walked around Asheville for a while, I enjoying this Bohemian city incongruously located in the deep South, while I plucked a flower, and tucked it behind my ear, as I so often do these days.  I felt free and easy, and the company was gentle and quiet.  I could have never left.  

I had to go.

So we meandered along our way home, and stopped to visit a gorge on the way, and traversed the guard rail, to pick a path along below, through the underbrush, giggling all the way.  

Then, the rain began.

And we headed back to the car, but didn’t close the windows all the way, and the moist scent permeated the interior and we both inhaled deeply.

Soon, it would be back to work.

Another watercolour had been spawned from our Sunset dinner at the mountain, and this account, which has rattled in my mind, seeking release until I finally had to sit and write was inspired from the experience.

My takeaway is not so strange; in fact, it has long been my central philosophy (though sometimes things and events have a way of solidifying even fairly concrete ideals):

Do it today.

Do it now.

You only have one chance.

You regret the things left undone more than those you did.

Life is too short for regrets anyway.

Spend the time you have in the best possible way, doing the most good, and in all things, you will have peace.

Never forget to love the ones you love; every moment with them is a gift, and tomorrow is no guarantee.

I’m glad I went.

No regrets.