Sally and Ben were
on summer break, and I’d just about had enough. It was early August and I could
barely manage caring for the two of them while running the boutique at the same
time. I think it was times like these that I missed Will the most. It would’ve
been nice to have a counterpart at the dinner table with me. Someone who could play
football with Ben in the yard or someone who could spoil Sally and take her to
her favorite toy shops. I was stretched so thin—between the boutique and the
children—I barely had any time for myself. I figured an escape would be good.
Just to clear my mind for a few days. I’d bring the kids with me—of course—but if
we could just get away somewhere. Damn. That’d be nice.
Anyway, I piled the kids into the
car and we set off for the mountains. I wanted to be somewhere with pine trees,
fresh air, and even mosquitos. I wanted to be in the wilderness, soaking up the
raw natural beauty of my state uninterrupted (even if it was only for a couple
days). Well, to say the least, the trip wasn’t quite what I had in mind. For
starters, Sally and Ben could barely walk 5 miles a day. We were supposed to do
30 in total, but I had to cut out the last 10 miles. I even carried everything!
As a mother should, I admit, but still! I had our tent, cooking supplies,
sunscreen, bug repellent, you name it. The only thing Sally and Ben had to
carry were their sleeping bags and water. By the end of day 2—I am telling YOU—things
were looking bleak. We hadn’t seen anyone else on the trial, the mosquitos were
worse than I ever remembered camping, and Sally and Ben didn’t seem to be
having it anymore.
We stopped in a clearing surrounded
by tall trees with vantage points of the valley below us and I started to
assemble the tent. Sally complained while Ben helped me set up the tent. My
GOD! Sometimes I wish they would hurry up and run off to college already, for
God’s sake! Then the strangest thing happened. A young woman came traipsing
into our campsite and threw down her pack. It was late afternoon, and I
wondered why she hadn’t stopped earlier to set up her own camp. She gave and my
children a once-over and then burst out laughing. Turns out she was hiking the
PCT and hadn’t seen anyone on the trail for a week. Can you imagine? A week without
any human interaction? A week just by yourself? I was in awe of her. I didn’t
know how she did it. She was almost crying with laughter at the sight of seeing
a middle-aged woman and her two young teenage children out on the PCT. What the
heck. I was bored and wanted to get away for a weekend. What else should I have
done? I invited her to join us for dinner and she regaled us with stories of
the trail. Sally was fascinated by her, but Ben seemed as if he couldn’t care
less.
As I listened to this woman’s
experiences, I began to feel a small sense of appreciation for my life back in
Monterrey. I didn’t have the fanciest house, sure, and sometimes I was worked
to the absolute bone trying to provide for my family, but I had a family, I had
friends, I was making something of myself. This woman seemed to be wandering
the PCT in an effort to find herself. But would it really work?
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