Day 26 - Daydream Believer

This morning at breakfast, Scot asked me what I was thinking about. Usually it's nothing, or something a tad too disgusting to come clean about. Today, I answered before he was through asking the question.

"Pony trekking in Wales."


In 1993, I spent a semester at the University of London. On weekends, my friends and I traveled around Europe. One weekend we went to Euro Disney in Paris, and another weekend was spent pony trekking in Wales. It was an idyllic time, all four months of my time overseas. No responsibility, no job, and not a care beyond being hung-over. I felt the gratitude for that freedom then, and I realized a day would come when I would look back and wonder what had happened to that smooth faced young girl.

By 2 p.m. today, I had tended to the sick child (low grade fever and cough,) fought off attention swipes by jealous little sister, and taken care of Korben. During this time, I cleaned the entire house, top to bottom, and served two meals on tray tables in front of the TV. By 5 p.m. I had tossed a salad, had a child diagnosed with Bronchitis, and worked on first grade homework. All in a day.

By 9 p.m., I had filled a prescription, fed the dogs, husband, and children, and then, faced almost certain death. At least in my mind. Upon leaving the drug store, my Jetta, twelve year old beast she is, lost all electronic display, power steering, and control. As I turned onto the major road leading to home, smoke filled the car. I tried to remain calm, and instructed the children to prepare for a land ditching. Hastily, I pulled onto the first side street, and the three of us bailed out of the car. With Nora crying and asking if we were all going to die, I ushered them to stand 20 feet upwind of the car. Maggie (with a 100 degree fever) promptly sat criss-cross applesauce next to a neighborhood mailbox. Nora, my child in every way, whirled around on one foot, shrieking, moaning, and praying for safety. Never mind we were out of harms way. Now it was the dark that had her on edge. Twenty minutes later, my mom pulled up and took us home. Scot was at class in Tempe. With the new car.

I'm finding it quite ironic I was twirling my spoon in yogurt and dreaming of the Wales countryside today, on what became a rather hectic day. After I had told Scot what I was thinking about at breakfast, I retrieved my photo album of the trip and made him suffer through my own slide show. My mother happened to pick it up this afternoon, and leafed through it. Her first comment was "look how young you look." I was young. And smooth. I hadn't fought fevers and pulled children out of smoking cars yet.