While it seems too soon after my trip to SD to ask for time off, I headed to Willcox last night for the next four or so days.  You see, my mom’s finally having foot surgery, and while I’m confident she doesn’t need me there… I need to be there.  It’s a daughter thing.  There will be no guest bloggers this time around.  I couldn’t bear to have to ask another favor of them, so you may just have to wait for new posts if there is no internet to steal at my parents’ house.  Unless that is, I creep in the Super8 parking lot and steal their internet.  I wonder if that would make me a ‘webmo’. Hmm…

I never miss my hometown more than I do in the fall. At least once a year, Mom and I head out to Apple Annie’s for peaches, handmade goodies and the best apples in Arizona. A few more miles down Ft Grant Road and you can go on a hayride, pick the perfect carving pumpkin, and purchase tons of other homegrown vegetables. This year for the first time Apple Annie’s has created a massive corn-maze, the largest in our fine state.  When Zac told me about it, I was amazed at the detail an eighteen-acre field.  So if you happen to be heading east past Tucson and need a fun family activity, take a detour past my hometown and see what Apple Annie’s has to offer.

I’ve been back from Montana almost two weeks, and it seems like forever since I was there surrounded by people I love.  Work has been just that… work.  Hours have been long.  Lists of things that HAVE to be done just continue to grow longer, and I haven’t really had a moment to let my trip really digest.  But, the truth is I’ve been semi-dreading the moment when I have to line up all the reasons I didn’t want to go and the ways I was so greatly mistaken.

It had been five years since I had traveled to visit my grandparents.  In that time, grandma had had a stroke, and to be honest I had done the grandma who says mean things because of her illness and was more than wary of dealing with it all over again.  It’s amazing the excuses we make and build for ourselves when we want to, “too busy at work”, “too busy with Cares”, “too understaffed at work” and “Flagstaff would crumble if I were to leave”.  But with a little encouragement and accompaniment from Zac and a list of rules to keep me out of trouble from my mom (No cleavage, perfume, unladylike language, and shoes in the house), I did what I’d be dreading for months and stepped on that plane.

In a flash it was seven days later and I hugged my family goodbye and walked with Zac down that airport walkway with tears in my eyes at the realization of how wrong I had been.  My time with my grandparents was a time I’ll forever cherish.  There was no moment where I regretted being there.  The days were not as boring as I had been warned they’d be.  We played rummy after breakfast and sat on the porch and talked after dinner.  We played Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader? and some other hideous game Zac made us play.  We laughed and listened and reconnected.  One afternoon as I was doing dishes and grandma was showing me where things went, she asked about my job.  After a quick, ‘Wal-Mart’ explanation of what I do, she asked if I liked it.  “I love it,” I gushed.  “Well, it sounds downright scary to me,” she replied with a laugh in her voice, “as long as you’re happy.”

Of course, our worlds were different.  They wake up every morning before six and would prefer if we were up to.  They like cereal and milk in the mornings before my eyes want to open, and quiet, bland restaurants when I like Mexican and Thai.  We both love fish, but they like Friday Fish Fry Dinners at 2pm, and I prefer sushi.  I check my email on my cell phone, and they rock the Earthlink MailStation.  Yet, when it comes down to it, the walls I thought divided us and made our paths uncrossable were just the details that make us unique individuals in this family.

As I look back on my time there, there’s one moment that sticks out.  It was the last afternoon we were there and grandma had disappeared. I walked to the end of the hall to see if she had gone to take a nap, when she appeared out of her bathroom.  She told me she wished we could stay longer but understood I had to go home to work.  We joked about the joys of being an adult and having to pay bills and be responsible.  In a moment of vulnerability, I confessed that I feared I was a much better kid than I was an adult.  She patted my arm and said, “I think you’re doing a mighty fine job at being an adult,” and walked away as I fought back the tears at her approval.  With all of my fear and worry about how my grandmother and I would get along, my time with her was the time I wouldn’t give back for anything.  I’m very aware that both of my grandparents won’t be here forever, but it’s nice (as selfish as it may be) to have happy memories at the end of the story to cling to and carry on with.  Because despite the ups and downs and distance literally and figuratively, we have been and always will be family.

Even as a child one of my favorite places to visit was my aunt and uncle’s ranch in southeastern Montana.  There’s something about driving out into the middle of nowhere and then going fifteen more miles down a unkempt dirt road that reminds you we’re all still small in this big world.  Imagine living miles from your mailbox, neighbors, and a store to buy a loaf of bread.  How about not traveling to civilization for weeks in the winter and traveling to school by snowmobile when the roads were too covered to navigate a truck.  It’s a different world then the one I grew up in, and yet every few years I find myself craving a retreat to this corner of land.  I ache to shed the technology and responsibility of my everyday life and recenter who I am and what’s really important.  In the days since I stepped off that plane in Mesa and drove back up the mountain, I’ve longed to return to the ranch.

Before I can really tell you about my trip, you have to allow me to gush about the gorgeous area I was in for most of my time away. The Black Hills of South Dakota have always been one of my favorite places to spend time, and with surroundings like these who wouldn’t want to get away there. At least once during every trip to see my grandparents in Spearfish, we drive through the canyon to a little cafe for the best breakfast north of Denver. Everyone at Cheyenne Crossing Cafe knows my grandparents by name and that warms my heart just a bit. Lucky for us, we had the time to really soak in the drive after breakfast and stop to enjoy the magnificent waterfalls found buried there. Zac and I had to hike a teeny, tiny bit to see this one, but it was so worth it. Especially when the group of foreign tourists came up to the creek right as Zac stepped into the arctic water with his feet clad in MY pink Crocs and howled. Good times…

It’s true… I have returned to the land of technology and have so much to tell all of you.  The past week has been one of the best and most thought-provoking weeks of my life, and going back to work today after nine days off was not easy.  I’m still trying to unpack, put my house back in order and digest the events of my trip, but I promise I do plan on sharing stories, pictures, and personal discoveries with you throughout the next week.

I’m posting from a picture message from my cell phone because I know I won’t be ready to divulge the details of my trip tomorrow.  More than likely, I’ll either be sleeping, cleaning, or pep-talking myself into returning to work on Monday after a 9-day (!!!!) hiatus.  I have so many stories, thoughts and pictures to share over the next week, but for now I’ll leave you with the lone image I took on my cell phone camera.

(I took this last night at around 8:15 pm.  Proving that we were all smarter than a 5th grader exhausted the grandparents… Or maybe it was putting up with their Arizona grandkids… hmmm.)