My little girl once again headed for wide-open spaces

Last year’s exotic vacation destination was a one-off thing for my life. Frankly, if it wasn’t for my wife surprising me with the trip to Hawaii for my 60th birthday, I’m fairly certain such a trip would have never happened. I’m not averse to travel, but it’s never been a priority for me — unless it involves a bicycle, then I’m all about it!

And while I may not have actually sought travel, the road has come calling plenty of times, compliments of my children. When our oldest was in the Army, Kristin and I did our best to head her way whenever we had the chance, no matter where she was stationed. (With the notable exception of the Middle East. We just crossed our fingers and waited that one out.)

Most of our travels were support missions to relocate our soldier from one duty station to the next. Nothing will cool your desire for the open road more quickly than 14 hours on the vinyl driver’s bench of a rented 27-foot box truck. Still, we did it happily, living the vow that we would do anything for our kids.

Longtime readers may recall the tale from a few years ago when Kristin and I made a cross-country journey to deliver our youngest, Sylvia, along with her obnoxious pet cat, One-nostril Newt, to a seasonal job on the coast of California. That was four 10-hour days of driving, broken only by the occasional potty break for both man and beast.

And if you think cats can be inspired to “go” merely by walking through an open door and whiffing the work of a fellow traveler on the nearest boulder, you would be dead wrong and dramatically delayed. Worse still was Newt’s disappearing act in a motel in Elko, Nevada, where we were stooped just short of a call to the FBI by a glimpse of his whiskers sticking out from beneath the boxed-in bedframe.

Our “do anything for our kids” motto was called into action once again last week as I strapped in for another cross-country drive to deliver Sylvia to another seasonal assignment, this one at an internship at a National Park in Utah.

Traveling relatively lightly with no Kristin and more importantly no cat, Sylvia and I endeavored to “get there as quickly as possible.” When I say quickly, however, given our old and grossly overloaded vehicle, speeding was never part of the plan. Instead, we focused on constant forward motion that carried us all the way to Kansas before pulling over in a rest area for the night. (Sylvia falls on the rugged side for a member of Gen Z. Sleeping in the same seat and the same clothes you’ve just spent the past 14 hours in is just a necessary fact of life if you want to get where you’re going.)

We woke at 3 a.m. to continue on with the journey. Just as we reached cruising speed, I flipped on the radio and the song “Wide Open Spaces” by The Chicks — a tune very specifically about a young woman leaving home to find her way — came on. We both did well, silently choking back the tears. The very next song, however, left no room for doubt that the universe was onto the act. This one, by Tim McGraw, “My Little Girl,” doesn’t really need a description. We both melted.

We’d get there eventually, but suddenly, getting there as quickly as possible didn’t seem all that important anymore.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.