Turning Over a New Leave …
By Dianne Armitage
Breast cancer has a way of both expanding your horizons and creating a bit of a claustrophobic security zone as well. I, for one, constantly walk a tightrope between unbounded exuberance for experiencing new things – and no small amount of just wanting to stay where I feel safe and sound.
Holding onto what is familiar and “safe” is no way to live your life, so I am continually faced with trying to make sure I expand my universe at least every now and then so I am not wasting the time I’ve been lucky enough to be given.
As much as I have tried to keep breast cancer from defining me, I have to admit there are times when my experience has not only made me fearful, but has caused me to limit what I feel comfortable doing.
I realized right before the holidays that it had been a year since I’d ventured out on my own, which meant it was high time for me to grab my brave-self and see that she did something fearless. For me this translated to driving the 12 hours it takes to visit my son and his family.
I decided I could make this even more of an adventure if I stopped half way to visit a childhood friend, Susie Prather. Susie and I were best friends when we were four years old. I suppose it’s important to say that I hadn’t seen her in nearly 30 years, which is part of what made the trip an adventure. I’d only recently discovered that she lives in Petaluma, California – which is only about six hours from my home.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I envision those I love (and have loved for a long time) it’s not unusual for me to see them as they were. This is true of my sons, who are both grown men now – but who will always be my babies when I close my eyes and “see” them.
Chris now sports an arm full of tattoos and often lets his facial hair become fashionably stubbly – but in my mind’s eye he still has sun streaked curls and is sitting on a hillside by our house jabbering to the cats and dogs as they watch the sunset.
I envision Travis as my blonde, curly haired little doll baby with dimpled elbows and knees. I can hear his chirpy little Elmer Fudd voice, and smile when I remember some of the endearing words he so profoundly mispronounced! I’m sure he would roll his eyes if he knew this!
The same held true for Susie. I have seen her as an adult, but when I thought about her, I would conjure up the four-year-old version. Susie and her sister Cindy were storybook beautiful. They looked like every illustrator’s idea of what a child should be. Susie was the blonde version, Cindy the dark haired – but both were as cute as bug’s ears. (Even as I write that timeworn saying, I wonder exactly how cute a bug’s ear is – or even if they have ears!)
Although Sue offered to have me stay at her house, I thought it would be a good idea to rent a hotel room. I figured if she could tolerate me in the here and now, I could always spend time with her on my return trip. Since this was supposed to be an adventure, I opted for a French hotel in Petaluma called the Metro. I immediately fell in love with their website which is filled with great shots of not only the hotel – but is accompanied by a very French soundtrack. When I realized they were not pet friendly I sent an email announcing that my traveling companion is a French bulldog which meant they simply had to find room at the inn!
They did. Well, not exactly a room, it was an Airstream trailer. I was so excited I immediately took them up on the offer. My mind fondly recalled Airstream trailers as roomy and shiny. This was going to be a great adventure! I literally sang songs to Lulu on the way to Petaluma, conveying the message that we were two fearless travelers, and nothing could stop us now.
When I arrived at the Metro I was met by a nice young man with an equally pleasant French accent. He ushered me to my abode for the evening. My memories of an Airstream quickly faded as I got an in-the-moment glimpse. It was an Airstream trailer that could probably fit inside a standard-sized hotel room. I could swear that Lulu looked at me and rolled her eyes (she is French after all)!
I am not kidding you when I say there was hardly room inside the trailer to allow the nice young French man and I hold a conversation. In fact, I couldn’t stand mid-trailer and stretch my arms out from side to side.
When he showed me the shower/bathroom I had a hard time not laughing out loud. In the interest of American/French relations, I restrained myself. In order to take a shower you had to stand in the same room where the toilet resides. I wasn’t adventurous enough to test whether or not this configuration actually worked because I was fairly certain it meant standing on the toilet.
Since I firmly believe that cleanliness is next to godliness (and since I hadn’t seen Susie in over 30 years) I managed to take a sort of spit bath before heading to our reunion. I grabbed a washcloth from the itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny bathroom/shower and used the miniature kitchen sink as my bathing area. I was forced to put one leg on the dining table in order to have enough room to actually wash – which made me hope the trailer did not come equipped with any hidden cameras!
When I arrived at Susie’s house and saw her, it was as though the 30 years since we had seen each other vanished. She doesn’t look like a little girl any longer, but the woman she has become is equally lovely. Seeing friendship shine in her eyes made the trip all the more worthwhile.
As we were sitting and reminiscing, she asked me if I knew what one of her favorite childhood memories about me was. It seems that when we were five I convinced her that we should go see Santa Claus after we got out of kindergarten. Susie’s recollection of me was that I was always the one who came up with great ideas and she was always the one who followed blindly alongside.
I had seen Santa with my mother the previous weekend and clearly remembered how to get there from school. Susie and I bravely trekked to the corner where Santa and his reindeer were situated. We managed to tell him we’d been very good girls and then began heading towards home. The only problem was I couldn’t remember how to get home from Santa’s location.
I won’t burden you with hysterical parents and weepy five-year-olds, but I will say that thank goodness I did eventually remember how to find my grandma’s house and she was able to call our parents and let them know we had been found safe and sound.
I thought it was interesting that Susie recalled this adventure in a favorable light. That’s probably why we were such good friends. She didn’t hold it against me that while I could think up great adventures I didn’t always take the time to map out all of the details. It appears some things never change.
I’ll try to remember that the next time I am fearful! Perhaps the adventure itself means having to take a deep breath and simply press onward -- even if you don’t know exactly what lies ahead.
