My apologies for not posting reliably on Sundays as I said I would. The overriding reason is that I have a new book launching on January 7, 2026! Available on Amazon and through Ingram and local book stores, An Imperfect Life is the story of the Macabee family, spanning six decades of trouble and triumph. More on this new book to come. I'm excited!
Chapter 5
Orleans MA
We decide to start our road trip today--a day early, and all we do is drive thirty minutes to the neighboring town of Orleans, and then head home again. But as of now, our kitchen is closed and we’re already acting like we’re on vacation. I recommend this approach. It provides an easy-peasy transition to vacation mode.
In Orleans we and the car get a good cleaning. We drive through a super-duper car wash and Janet and I both get manicures and pedicures. We have lunch at the Sunbird Cafe–organic burgers and carrot-cashew soup and dark roast local coffee. The Sunbird is small, unique, and delicious–offering all natural ingredients mostly from local farms, fabulous teas, cappuccinos and espresso, and a modest and different lunch menu every day. It’s the kind of place where you feel healthy just being there. I use the bathroom before we leave. In a non-descript corner, I spot a painted rock on the floor that says Our days are happier when we give people a piece of our heart instead of a piece of our mind. I make a split-second decision to follow that advice for the next two months. I’ll have no reason to be grumpy.
I’m tested almost immediately. It takes forever to pack the car. My grand plan of plastic bags and grocery boxes is falling apart.
Chapter 6
Natick MA
Because we live at the very tip of Cape Cod, and because the whole Outer and Mid Cape is a straight shot either east or west, it’s always a mini-milestone when we cross over the Sagamore Bridge and are officially off the Cape. Our daughter Jessica and her family live two-plus hours up the road, and if there’s ever any reason to cross the bridge, she’s it.
We’re giddy on our way to Jess and Mike’s house. We’ve planned a farewell Chinese buffet dinner with them, Mike’s mother, Pat, and our four grandkids. There is nothing especially special about our visit, but it’s significant to me because this will be my longest time ever away from Jess. I’m sure the importance of this doesn’t register with her. I've learned over the years that in most cases adult children don’t have the same hovering perspective until they hover over their own adult kids. There must be a maternal antenna that never fails, even when our children grow up. I almost always have my phone with me, specifically so I won’t ever miss an emergency call from Jess, and I’ve never been willing to be out of range for more than a week or two. But now, as we set up a makeshift buffet table in her Queen Ann Victorian kitchen, I know my daughter is in good hands. She’s married to a good man and they have four active and wonderful kids, ages twelve, ten, eight and six. My daughter’s life is chaotically lovely.
My first three grandkids are boys. There’s lots of jumping and wrestling and carpooling and time at sports events. Jess is my only child so I’m learning by observation that boys are indeed different from girls: much more physical and tighter lipped. Tonight we don’t see much of Ryan, the oldest at twelve, because he and his friends are preoccupied with the video game Fortnight. We traditionally have to force Drew, who’s ten, to let us kiss and hug him, but we can tell by his sheepish grin that he doesn’t really mind. Eight-year-old Logan and six-year-old Reese are still readily available: they’re young enough that showing us their bedrooms or playing a quick game of Hangman is still fun. Janet and I won the lottery with these kids. This is a forever love that before I felt and experienced it, I had no idea.
I make a mental note to send Jess and Mike and the kids plenty of postcards and doo-dad mementos from the road. (It doesn’t turn out that way: most of our postcards don’t arrive until long after we’re home again.)
No comments:
Post a Comment