The One that got Away~ Road Trip~ part 19

The thunderstorms varied in intensity as I made my way west. At times the steel gray skies dumped torrents of rain, others barely a drizzle.

The dogs had been unusually good, sleeping most of the way.

At some point we pulled over at a Dairy Queen for a pit stop for all of us. I don't even remember the name of the town, but I knew I was in west Texas. All small towns had Dairy Queens; a sure sign of being westward bound.

The cold rain had slowed to a sprinkle. This being a good thing. I dreaded the thought of traveling with three soaked dogs. Not being a good planner, I had only packed one large towel. Not enough for all of us should we get soaked. I watched the skies, telling each dog to,"Hurry, Hurry, Hurry!"

Because of the chilly drizzle, they complied. Ready to return to the warmth of the truck.

Back on the road, I too was thankful to be in the cab of my truck. February rains in Texas could turn nasty. Unconcerned, I continued moving west. As long as I could see the road I knew I would be fine. Should the rain turn extremely heavy my first instinct had always been to pull over. My father consistently had reminded me this to be a dangerous practice. The risk being other drivers inability to see me only to smack square into me. Perhaps the rain would back off, not letting loose into a full blown west Texas thunderstorm.

Topping a small hill, I looked forward to see my first wind farm. The size of these things were staggering. I felt I might be in a sci-fi movie. The propellers stretched up into the clouds and were difficult to see. As they rotated, fog and clouds were pushed aside to reveal one to two propellers, only to disappear, being swallowed by fog again. The sheer size of these things frightened me, yet I found myself mesmerized. I pulled in to a safe farm entrance and grabbed my camera. Stepping outside the truck, I anticipated the maddening hum I had read so much about. Silence. Perhaps I wasn't close enough. The white propellers were too hidden by the fog and clouds. I knew any shot I took would be wasted. Maybe on the way home skies might be clearer. Perhaps then I could get my shot.

Back on the road. We were making good time, despite the weather. We could possibly be at Jan's in as little as an hour or two. I could feel the excitement mounting. The dogs were still asleep. Good for me, potentially bad when we reached Jan's. They would be loaded for bear. I prayed they would behave themselves. Passed through yet another small town, noticing my gas gauge. " I should get gas," I remembered thinking. The rain beat down on my windshield, making it difficult to see. I decided to wait to the next town. Hoping the rain would let up.

Through the driving, pelting rain I read the highway sign, next town 38 miles. I checked the gauge again. It sat dangerously on empty, not convinced I would make it to the next gas pumps.

Stupid!!!! I had forgotten how far apart these towns could be out here in no man's land. I thought about turning around yet I had already driven almost 20 miles. Broad as it was long.

The only thing to do was to press forward, all the while praying I had gas enough to make it.

I continued pushing onward, thinking of plan B should one be needed. The safest thing would be to hit a farmhouse, explain my situation, then hope pity be taken upon me and gas shared. I loved the people of west Texas. Most all were willing to help a stranger.

I did not have to depend on the kindness of strangers after all. We made it to the next community and I made sure I topped off my tank. We were only 11 miles from Jan's! Wow! It had been a fast trip! I called her cell and let her know I was getting close.

She talked me in, helping me find her FM road. Dark had caught me. I suffered a mean case of night blindness. I had told her once dark, I would need help.

Finally, I saw She and her husband, standing on their well lit front porch, waving like fools!!

So many emotions filled me as I slowly sought the mouth of her drive. I wanted to forego parking, slap the truck in park, and run to her. I didn't. I've been told my energy is very expansive and can be quite overwhelming at times. Instead, I parked, forgot about running as I didn't do that well anymore, walked to the porch and hugged her. I felt the years melt away with that one hug and knew I had done the right thing by coming. Sometimes when friendships lapse for long periods of time, they can't be rekindled. No matter how much one might prop, strain, work to regain that closeness, it's gone. This one thought had stayed with me during the whole drive west. No, we were fine.

We entered her home and it felt wonderful. So welcoming. I met the two younger children, who were no longer children. A pang of guilt struck deep. I had missed their entire childhoods. How had I allowed this to happen? I wanted to take them both in my arms; but they were strangers.

In my excitement I all but forgot about the dogs in the truck! Back to the truck I went, whispering up a prayer for the three to behave themselves. I knew the basset would behave. He has yet to see a stranger, human or animal. The schnauzer sisters were, well, schnauzers. If you know the breed, you understand. Stubborn as mules. Very loving, but strong willed. At six months a day came when they had driven me to distraction! My riding crop just happened to be in the house. I grabbed it, whacked the wall with it and screamed "NO." Then stung two little bottoms. Just one pop a piece.They were more frightened than hurt, but it worked. I packed my riding crop just in case they needed a gentle reminder. Since that day my crop has hung in plain view on the key pegs in the kitchen.

After much circling and smelling, the dogs settled in. Thank goodness Jan hadn't a problem with animals on the furniture. All my dogs are cuddlers and enjoyed a good lap on which to lay their heads. Regretfully, I have only two rules. Do all business outdoors. Don't tear my stuff up. That's it.

Suddenly I became tired. The road started catching up with me, the initial adrenaline began to wane and I wanted a bed. Jan's face looked pinched with pain. Oh how I knew that look. Not just from the mirror, but from all the years I worked with folks in chronic pain. Yes, time to rest. The kids had school the next day as well. Jan and I could visit the whole of tomorrow.

Schnauzer pups made the night just fine in their crate. Flash however, spent his night playing musical beds. Apparently, he began the night with me, then went visiting everyone else as well. Now when I say visiting I mean he literally spent the night going from bed to bed, sleeping with

everyone in the house. Flash thinks everyone loves him. This could be my fault. He had a rough go of it his first year, prior to being rescued. Wise or not I cut my rescues more slack. They usually have so little confidence; I spend the first year attempting to rebuild self esteem. This took no time with the basset. And while I do my best not to have favorites, he knew. The connection I had made with him ran deep. But that is another story for another time.

Jan and I spent our days visiting, eating, taking naps, then visiting some more. I wished she had felt better; that being my only regret.

She pulled out an old high school annual which triggered a flood of memories for us both. There we were, so young, so fresh faced. Smiling up at ourselves with big dreams and raw determination.

The younger versions of ourselves locking eyes with the women we had become. "Didja ever

think we would be sitting here at fifty, still friends?"she asked, a look of disbelief on her face. The silly answer on my part was yes, I never doubted it. I always believed we would be friends. I found it harder to believe we had drifted apart. Guess I never really expressed how important she was to me, how loved. If I ever took our friendship for granted, I certainly regretted it now. Jan had always been a treasure to me. A friendship, just like a marriage, must be tended. Perhaps I had stopped the tending. I made a quiet promise to myself to not allow that to happen again.

She asked if I still wrote and I shook my head no. I made all manner of excuses but the real truth was I had convinced myself years ago I had nothing worthwhile to say. Writing was a childhood dream.

Oh, I had written some stuff as an adult; most of it landed in the trash. Then I got busy. Told myself I hadn't the time for such anymore. As I repeated this to Jan her jaw slowly dropped. "Never throw away anything you have started! You may revisit it later and all kinds of ideas may come to you." Well that ship had sailed. Too late now.

"Come here," she motioned me to follow her to her computer. With the touch of several buttons up popped my new blog. She told me she was going to do this. I half hoped she had forgotten.

She asked some basic questions, all the while striking keys, making magic happen.

"Now, here is your new blog. You are gonna love this, Terri." She had to be wrong. Then Jan handed me a set of handwritten instructions; how to open, how to close, how to post. My head began to swim. "Jan, you don't understand, I have no computer skills!" She brushed her hand in the air as if to say,"don't wanta hear it." I had seen her in her classroom years ago. She was in full blown teacher mode. "OK, I'll try." I knew she was not going to take no for an answer.

I felt I had no sooner gotten there, when it was time to go. I still don't know where the time went. I think I had added an extra day to my trip as it stood. Still, I didn't feel ready to leave. The weather stayed nasty for my whole visit. Gray, damp and drizzly. Other than the weather, it had been tons of fun. I thought about asking if I could stay another day, but then decided I best not wear out my welcome. Besides, I needed to get home. Checked the weather on my phone and we were in store for yet another snow. I sure didn't need to be caught in that.

Had my things packed and back in the truck the next morning. Actually, I started in the morning; I think it was closer to noon before I backed out of Jan's drive.

I would feel ready to leave then convince myself I had left something behind. Another walk through. Nothing. Again I would head toward the truck, stop, return to the house. I became certain I was leaving something important behind.

Well, what ever it was, I couldn't see it. Shoot! Whatever it was, Jan could mail it to me.

I refused to walk through her home another time. I had to get on the road!

She stood in the drizzle on her porch, waving goodbye. So much like I had found her just a few nights earlier. I wonder if she knew at that moment, just how much I loved her.

I learned two things on my trip west.

I had reached an age that I couldn't make new old friends.

It sure was nice to have an old friend to help you remember who you used to be.

I had driven maybe 50 miles east when I realized what I had left behind.

I had forgotten a little piece of my heart.