This poem reminded me of my drive to California -- my car in tow, a cat sharing the ride, and the absolute freedom I felt driving west! It was frightening, exhilerating, liberating - a true adventure. And it was something only a 21 year old can do.
You get to a point in life when you realize that no matter what, you can never just get in your car and drive away. I wanted to today. After being on the phone with pharmacies and case workers and insurance companies and dealing with all the red tape of life -- grabbing my keys and hitting the road, sleeping in the trunk and eating egg salad sandwiches from 7-11 sounded like a dream vacation. When I tried to take a five minute 'calming down' break, the case worker called and I didn't answer, so all meds were sent to the wrong pharmacy, and it took another hour to fix the problem.
Froggy saw me freak out and said, "huggy mama," and then she started crying. I felt like a jerk and did the only thing a stressed out and guilty mama could do. Instead of getting in my car and driving into the sunset (which would only be about a mile or so), I drove our sorry selves to the swings, the slides and merry-go-round. Somehow in the sway of the wind, and the blissful sound of Froggy's giggles, I was able to escape, and ultimately remember why I stay. She is my joy, my adventure, and in a strange way, my freedom. Even with all of the CF strings attached, there is no destination as wonderful as our bed at night, tucked under the covers with the butterfly light on, hearing those sweet words, "ohhh huggy mama."
I used to drive and keep on driving—
anything I wanted on the radio,