the open road

AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

At our wedding five years ago, my dear friend Melissa read a piece of that Walt Whitman quote. It seemed to fit the nature of our romance so well. Jeff and I fell in love while traveling and always greeted our summers with shoestring, Latin American adventures. We poured through Lonely Planet guides, lived on twenty dollars a day, and explored some tremendous, tremendous places on this here beauteous earth. Those adventures molded a part of me that I will always treasure - an adventurous, carefree spirit, soaking in detail, fearlessly speaking Spanish, no inhibitions, no worries about grammar or schedule. Even that picture of Jeff and Iabove at Kelli and Jack's wedding, me prego as a peach, captures that lightheartedness. That lack of total vulnerability. The in-the-moment me that sometimes seems far, far away in these packed days of mamaland.

So when Jeff suggested Elie and I join him on a roadtrip to Portland, I was initially a bit hesitant. He and two of our colleague friends have a conference along the Hood River. Eliana and I could spend the week with his sister and hang, and he'd join us in the evenings. Why is it that committing to mamaland away from all our familiar stuff can feel so daunting? Why did I spend weeks making the decision to join them?

I guess the crux of the issue comes down to straight up anxiety. The anxiety of not having Eliana's stuff just so. The fear of the unknown. How will she do in the car for the nine hour haul? It's enough to keep you in the familiar.

But my girl Casey had just had her own adventure with her almost two year old. Multiple planes, a couple big cities, no schedule, no plan. She was so encouraging. She talked about how the girls are more BFF's these days than babies, more into hanging with us and having adventures and less about needing everything a certain, familiar way. Our chat had me sold and I told Auntie Kelli to get ready for a week with her niece.

And, of course, Eliana was insanely amazing during the car ride. She had her buddy Miss Chris on one side, me on the other, lots of books and babies and songs to keep her motivated (Chris commented that perhaps this would be the first road trip she measured in number of times she could sing, "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" as opposed to miles). She barely slept, but kept her spirits high, taking in each new image outside the window with the mellow, stony stupor of someone too tired to sleep, but still chill enough to just be.

We arrived in this beautiful, green city to Jack, Kelli and Biyou, awaiting our arrival on their perfect porch. Biyou and Lucy made out like long lost doggie lovers, while Eliana turned her charms back on for her auntie and uncle. We even made it through a fantabulous Ethiopian dinner, Elie loving the fact that we were all eating with our hands.

Everyone is resting after a late night filled with the laughter of familiarity, of people joining together who share rich histories. I spent an hour in Kelli's huge claw foot tub, all essential oils and conditioning treatments, the Oregon sky outside the big window moving from gray to blue to gray again. How happy am I to be on this journey with my family? How thankful that I decided to take the risk.

Tonight Jeffy comes back into town for a father's day dinner celebration. I take this moment to send a loud, raucous shout out to my manon daddy's day for injecting my life with excitement and inspiring adventure in unique ways for the past decade. I then cover him with hugs and kisses for the way he loves our girl. His intensity. His commitment. His adoration. His big brain. His faith in the, "long brown path" before us that lead us to such a joyous place.