Despite complications courtesy of Winter Storm Stella, Dan and I made it out of Brooklyn today on the first leg of our drive up to Maine because I wanted our adventure to start on March 14th.
Five years ago today, my mother died after over a decade of battling cancer. I like to say that my mom and I had a wonderful relationship for ten years, fought for the next ten years, and spent the final ten years getting to know and respect each other again.
My mom loved weird adventures, spontaneous walks out into nature, getting away from where everyone else went. My parents took us on summer vacation to camp in the Badlands, the Black Hills in North Dakota, Yellowstone, in addition to canoeing and swimming at our Wisconsin cabin.
I like to celebrate my mom on her birthday rather than mourn today, but I can’t help but feel the significance of March 14th every year, so I like to do something that she’d love. I wish I could pick up the phone to call her because I know she’d approve of our trip, and she’d be excited to hear my plans.