Road Trippin
When I was 12, I stayed the night with my friend Lanette at her dad’s house. It was pretty normal sleepover procedure, time in the pool, time sunning, and watching old movies. We slept in her finished basement and around 7am the next morning I woke up to my mum hovering over me, nudging me awake.
My older sister was in labor, and we were going to witness the birth of my niece. Today I was going to become an aunt. Later, in the hospital room, I got the incredibly uncomfortable honor to view my sister’s body and the tiny crowning head. I am one of the first humans to see her in the flesh, to hear her first breath, and to bear witness to her first moments.
And now here she is, almost 25, descending the stairs of the airport and into my waiting arms. The closest thing I have to a daughter and she’s more like a sister. I love her as fiercely as my younger sister Jen, more deeply than almost all of my family. We are close, and she’s come to take this trip with me.
***
I’ve given her the abbreviated tour of Myrtle Beach and we’ve enjoyed the back patio. She’s tired and we have a very long day ahead and so she’s off to bed. It feels strange. She’s the first of my family to be here and seeing this huge piece of Michigan here leaves notes of discord. My brain can’t quite grasp that she is here. I feel so blessed.
Our trip begins at 6:30 in the morning. Before there’s more than a sliver of light. She’s come ready with playlists and the motivation to stay awake. I packed her spare warm clothes, bought her a travel mug and have the snacks ready to go. By the time we reach Ohio she’s pulling on the warm leggings and praising me for forethought.
We ride, we sing, we rap, we reminisce and we talk about raising kids and relationships. Hours rack up and fly by. Once in a while my eyes flick to the picture of him and I at the Hootie concert I have taped to my dash. At night the blue light of the tach shines through it and makes me smile.
By the time we cross into Michigan it’s been 15 hours of driving, and she now knows my entire polycule. And she’s nothing but supportive, which feels good. If she returns to visit me in November, she’ll meet them, and the idea of that makes her very happy. She is the first to say she can see the changes.
By the time we roll into my sister Jean’s driveway, we’re beyond exhausted. We curl up cross-ways on her queen mattress, wrapped in blankets, and sleep like the dead. As I drift off, in the dim light, I can see her forehead peeking out from the blankets and I’m recalled to the first moment I saw her. I could not love her more than I do in that moment.
***
The next day we get up, get around. She has a gift card for coffee, and then takes me to Olive Garden for lunch. She’s proud, considering this a touchstone of adulthood. She is taking her auntie out to a nice restaurant, drinking wine and not a chicken finger in sight. We laugh about how we define fancy and grown up, and then afterward we wander through a Halloween store and amuse each other with jokes and props.
Then it’s back to the real world for her, for now, and I’m off to cross the state. There’s a lot to see and do before I cool my heels with my mum and dad. I land in Bangor almost to the minute I said I would and they’re thrilled to see me. I swap a coin for some magnets, and then they descend on Big Red. The hood gets popped, the tires get kicked and they ask me what I plan to mod.
They show me new light bar set ups, they ask about the trip and then they give lingering hugs. They don’t want me to move on to the next. I laugh and tell them that I warned them not to get addicted when we first met years ago. They try to make me promise I’ll come back before next September.
It’s strange to be surrounded by firemen, to have them asking, introducing or vying for attention from me when that never happened in Boston. Has yet to happen elsewhere. But these boys know me from the festival and know that I am supportive and will give them as much coffee creamer from my cooler as they need. Juice always has the goods.
And yet, even here, even fawned over and flirted with, all I can think about is him. Them. My heart drops when someone asks me about the hurricane bearing down on them. I must flinch or betray the sudden worry, because they all vow that if anything happens, they’ll form a convoy and come dig them out personally. They try hard to cheer me up out of my nerves. I play along and smile.
It’s not far to the next. These are older men, ones who drive bigger trucks than mine and don’t throw themselves at me the same way. I get the full tour of the station and get to sit in their new engine. They offer me coffee and ask how life has treated me. Only two of them know my romantic life, and they bring it up casually, setting the one. This is normal, and no one is going to fuck with Juice about it while they’re here.
They invite me to dinner with them, and I sit at the table listening to shop talk. One of the new faces decides to try and explain what’s being said and I smile, but one of my friends is quick to point out that I probably know more about what’s being said than he does. I’m a legacy, I grew up in these trucks. I shrug and say that I appreciate him trying to help me anyway.
But the time dinner is over, it’s dark. I have four hours to drive north to Petosky and I’m unhappy with that. I’m still tired and it must be showing. So they offer me a spare room, a shower and coffee in the morning. I take them up on it and while there are hints that if I want company I can choose any of them, I rub my eyes and tell them that the only thing I want tonight is sleep. I don’t tell them that the only two men I’d want in my bed are states away tonight. No need to rub it in.
They’re gentlemen and I sleep well. At 5 I get up, have a cup of coffee with them and then get a call from Leedy. He’s headed to the lake early, and we can nix Petosky for now. He wants to grab breakfast when I get up there, so I decide to surprise my parents instead. I can’t drive fast enough. I realize I’ve been delaying going to see them.
***
It’s always a mix bag going to see my family. Will my mum be coherent? Will this be one of the off visits where it’s all a struggle and I end up leaving sad and disatisfied? Sometimes this makes me drag my feet and I realize I have been doing that, but also that it’s time. I need to see them.
The entire drive north my brain has too much time to think. What if I go back home and there’s no home? What if I’m finally feeling homesick while in Michigan and it’s all taken away? What if... worse things cross my mind and it’s like a black hole. What if I came here and it’s too straining on new love? To be gone so long, to be so far away. What if I come back to cooled feelings?
I call Matt and talk it out. He reassures me and reminds me that he’s good at handling anything. He’s got this, and I need to trust him. And I also need to trust my emotions and relationships. It was the reminder I needed.
***
I haven’t told my parents I’m coming. I want them to be surprised and genuine. There’s laughter and hugs and shock, and when I set my phone down my mum throws her arms open and starts to cry. I go to her and lay against her and let her fuss and smooth my hair and reconnect. She is joyous and thankful, laughing with tears on her face.
Poppa is more reserved. He was caught off guard at first but now he’s jovial and happy to let mum display the deeper emotions. They come out to admire the truck to see me spin in my better health and to bask in the happiness of being reunited.
Neighbors immediately come over, admiring, welcoming, and excited as well. It feels impressive to generate such a focal point.
Leedy picks me up a short while later, knowing to just look for the truck. She’s famous too. He brings me gifts from Petosky, a t-shirt, a blanket and window decals in exchange for the birthday video I got for him from his favorite social media influencer Officer Daniels. I had to laugh when I pulled the decals out, they were exactly the ones I had been wanting.
On the way to breakfast I tell him about the polycule. I show him pictures. I don’t realize he’s watching me for a few minutes and not looking at the photo I have pulled up and when I do and smiles. “It’s good to see you in love. You make think there’s something out there worth protecting.” He has called me his hero for how much I volunteer, for how much I support. And now he tells me that I inspire him. He’s the little brother I never had, and he uses the word “sister” for me for the first time.
Again this family theme that’s been all over my summer continues. Am I really building up all these things I’ve been missing?
***
Lunch is good. We laugh, we talk about work, we talk about plans for the weekend. We swap the shooting range for helping Cody move walls in the tower. It’s hot, and busy. The grounds are buzzing with changes, setting up for events. I keep looking out over the grounds from the second floor. I can hear the hammers behind me, the drill in my hand. This will be swarming with people, and I’m happy to be a part of it, but I would give half my worldly goods for my whole family to be here. All of them, the whole group. And then I smile. I didn’t mean my blood kin this time.
It takes a couple of hours, and then we head back. It’s getting late now and I’m still recovering from the drive. Leeds drops me off, I grab a shower and short nap. When I wake up, it’s to hurricane news. I’m nervous and anxious, and it takes all I have to divert my brain and have faith. They’re not going to leave me, I’m not losing this beautiful new life.
***
It’s later in the evening now. I’m waiting on my laundry to be done and my mom pokes her head into the guest room. I’m laying down, coercing him into sending me a video of him telling me he loves me when she hugs me and buries her face in my hair. She saw his name on my phone where I less-than-cleverly names him My Boo.
She saw Matt earlier in as My Hubby, and so she knows it’s not him. She asks me, gently, if this is why I’m so happy. If this person is why I’ve smiled more and look happier than I have in so long. For a moment I measure my words. Then I nod and sit up further. I explain that my new home suits me. The importance of the color yellow. The love I have in my heart. My new family.
She listens, and then she holds my face and tells me that if I love them, she loves them, and that she’s proud of me blazing my own trail. My heart stops completely and my own tears spring up. When I came out to her years ago, this was a struggle for her. Now here she was, openly accepting me and sharing. Now here are the words I never thought I’d here. Now here, pieces of me heal and return.
This is my year of healing. My year of life. My year of family.
Words don’t contain the ability to convey this power. I am so loved in so many ways, and I feel like I’m shining from deep within.
My older sister was in labor, and we were going to witness the birth of my niece. Today I was going to become an aunt. Later, in the hospital room, I got the incredibly uncomfortable honor to view my sister’s body and the tiny crowning head. I am one of the first humans to see her in the flesh, to hear her first breath, and to bear witness to her first moments.
And now here she is, almost 25, descending the stairs of the airport and into my waiting arms. The closest thing I have to a daughter and she’s more like a sister. I love her as fiercely as my younger sister Jen, more deeply than almost all of my family. We are close, and she’s come to take this trip with me.
***
I’ve given her the abbreviated tour of Myrtle Beach and we’ve enjoyed the back patio. She’s tired and we have a very long day ahead and so she’s off to bed. It feels strange. She’s the first of my family to be here and seeing this huge piece of Michigan here leaves notes of discord. My brain can’t quite grasp that she is here. I feel so blessed.
Our trip begins at 6:30 in the morning. Before there’s more than a sliver of light. She’s come ready with playlists and the motivation to stay awake. I packed her spare warm clothes, bought her a travel mug and have the snacks ready to go. By the time we reach Ohio she’s pulling on the warm leggings and praising me for forethought.
We ride, we sing, we rap, we reminisce and we talk about raising kids and relationships. Hours rack up and fly by. Once in a while my eyes flick to the picture of him and I at the Hootie concert I have taped to my dash. At night the blue light of the tach shines through it and makes me smile.
By the time we cross into Michigan it’s been 15 hours of driving, and she now knows my entire polycule. And she’s nothing but supportive, which feels good. If she returns to visit me in November, she’ll meet them, and the idea of that makes her very happy. She is the first to say she can see the changes.
By the time we roll into my sister Jean’s driveway, we’re beyond exhausted. We curl up cross-ways on her queen mattress, wrapped in blankets, and sleep like the dead. As I drift off, in the dim light, I can see her forehead peeking out from the blankets and I’m recalled to the first moment I saw her. I could not love her more than I do in that moment.
***
The next day we get up, get around. She has a gift card for coffee, and then takes me to Olive Garden for lunch. She’s proud, considering this a touchstone of adulthood. She is taking her auntie out to a nice restaurant, drinking wine and not a chicken finger in sight. We laugh about how we define fancy and grown up, and then afterward we wander through a Halloween store and amuse each other with jokes and props.
Then it’s back to the real world for her, for now, and I’m off to cross the state. There’s a lot to see and do before I cool my heels with my mum and dad. I land in Bangor almost to the minute I said I would and they’re thrilled to see me. I swap a coin for some magnets, and then they descend on Big Red. The hood gets popped, the tires get kicked and they ask me what I plan to mod.
They show me new light bar set ups, they ask about the trip and then they give lingering hugs. They don’t want me to move on to the next. I laugh and tell them that I warned them not to get addicted when we first met years ago. They try to make me promise I’ll come back before next September.
It’s strange to be surrounded by firemen, to have them asking, introducing or vying for attention from me when that never happened in Boston. Has yet to happen elsewhere. But these boys know me from the festival and know that I am supportive and will give them as much coffee creamer from my cooler as they need. Juice always has the goods.
And yet, even here, even fawned over and flirted with, all I can think about is him. Them. My heart drops when someone asks me about the hurricane bearing down on them. I must flinch or betray the sudden worry, because they all vow that if anything happens, they’ll form a convoy and come dig them out personally. They try hard to cheer me up out of my nerves. I play along and smile.
It’s not far to the next. These are older men, ones who drive bigger trucks than mine and don’t throw themselves at me the same way. I get the full tour of the station and get to sit in their new engine. They offer me coffee and ask how life has treated me. Only two of them know my romantic life, and they bring it up casually, setting the one. This is normal, and no one is going to fuck with Juice about it while they’re here.
They invite me to dinner with them, and I sit at the table listening to shop talk. One of the new faces decides to try and explain what’s being said and I smile, but one of my friends is quick to point out that I probably know more about what’s being said than he does. I’m a legacy, I grew up in these trucks. I shrug and say that I appreciate him trying to help me anyway.
But the time dinner is over, it’s dark. I have four hours to drive north to Petosky and I’m unhappy with that. I’m still tired and it must be showing. So they offer me a spare room, a shower and coffee in the morning. I take them up on it and while there are hints that if I want company I can choose any of them, I rub my eyes and tell them that the only thing I want tonight is sleep. I don’t tell them that the only two men I’d want in my bed are states away tonight. No need to rub it in.
They’re gentlemen and I sleep well. At 5 I get up, have a cup of coffee with them and then get a call from Leedy. He’s headed to the lake early, and we can nix Petosky for now. He wants to grab breakfast when I get up there, so I decide to surprise my parents instead. I can’t drive fast enough. I realize I’ve been delaying going to see them.
***
It’s always a mix bag going to see my family. Will my mum be coherent? Will this be one of the off visits where it’s all a struggle and I end up leaving sad and disatisfied? Sometimes this makes me drag my feet and I realize I have been doing that, but also that it’s time. I need to see them.
The entire drive north my brain has too much time to think. What if I go back home and there’s no home? What if I’m finally feeling homesick while in Michigan and it’s all taken away? What if... worse things cross my mind and it’s like a black hole. What if I came here and it’s too straining on new love? To be gone so long, to be so far away. What if I come back to cooled feelings?
I call Matt and talk it out. He reassures me and reminds me that he’s good at handling anything. He’s got this, and I need to trust him. And I also need to trust my emotions and relationships. It was the reminder I needed.
***
I haven’t told my parents I’m coming. I want them to be surprised and genuine. There’s laughter and hugs and shock, and when I set my phone down my mum throws her arms open and starts to cry. I go to her and lay against her and let her fuss and smooth my hair and reconnect. She is joyous and thankful, laughing with tears on her face.
Poppa is more reserved. He was caught off guard at first but now he’s jovial and happy to let mum display the deeper emotions. They come out to admire the truck to see me spin in my better health and to bask in the happiness of being reunited.
Neighbors immediately come over, admiring, welcoming, and excited as well. It feels impressive to generate such a focal point.
Leedy picks me up a short while later, knowing to just look for the truck. She’s famous too. He brings me gifts from Petosky, a t-shirt, a blanket and window decals in exchange for the birthday video I got for him from his favorite social media influencer Officer Daniels. I had to laugh when I pulled the decals out, they were exactly the ones I had been wanting.
On the way to breakfast I tell him about the polycule. I show him pictures. I don’t realize he’s watching me for a few minutes and not looking at the photo I have pulled up and when I do and smiles. “It’s good to see you in love. You make think there’s something out there worth protecting.” He has called me his hero for how much I volunteer, for how much I support. And now he tells me that I inspire him. He’s the little brother I never had, and he uses the word “sister” for me for the first time.
Again this family theme that’s been all over my summer continues. Am I really building up all these things I’ve been missing?
***
Lunch is good. We laugh, we talk about work, we talk about plans for the weekend. We swap the shooting range for helping Cody move walls in the tower. It’s hot, and busy. The grounds are buzzing with changes, setting up for events. I keep looking out over the grounds from the second floor. I can hear the hammers behind me, the drill in my hand. This will be swarming with people, and I’m happy to be a part of it, but I would give half my worldly goods for my whole family to be here. All of them, the whole group. And then I smile. I didn’t mean my blood kin this time.
It takes a couple of hours, and then we head back. It’s getting late now and I’m still recovering from the drive. Leeds drops me off, I grab a shower and short nap. When I wake up, it’s to hurricane news. I’m nervous and anxious, and it takes all I have to divert my brain and have faith. They’re not going to leave me, I’m not losing this beautiful new life.
***
It’s later in the evening now. I’m waiting on my laundry to be done and my mom pokes her head into the guest room. I’m laying down, coercing him into sending me a video of him telling me he loves me when she hugs me and buries her face in my hair. She saw his name on my phone where I less-than-cleverly names him My Boo.
She saw Matt earlier in as My Hubby, and so she knows it’s not him. She asks me, gently, if this is why I’m so happy. If this person is why I’ve smiled more and look happier than I have in so long. For a moment I measure my words. Then I nod and sit up further. I explain that my new home suits me. The importance of the color yellow. The love I have in my heart. My new family.
She listens, and then she holds my face and tells me that if I love them, she loves them, and that she’s proud of me blazing my own trail. My heart stops completely and my own tears spring up. When I came out to her years ago, this was a struggle for her. Now here she was, openly accepting me and sharing. Now here are the words I never thought I’d here. Now here, pieces of me heal and return.
This is my year of healing. My year of life. My year of family.
Words don’t contain the ability to convey this power. I am so loved in so many ways, and I feel like I’m shining from deep within.
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