Day 2
Day 2
We decide to spend the morning in Savannah before we head further South. Last night Mikey spotted a nice park with a playground so we back track our steps to get there. Parking is scarce, so we park four blocks away and walk. I like this. It's a residential neighborhood, with gorgeous architecture and sidewalks shaded by old trees. I could walk under tress like this with Mikey into eternity.
We find the park, and talking to people I realize we hit a landmark, that's Forsyth Park and Forrest Gump was filmed there. I like the green and wide spaces. Mikey is unimpressed, he does what little boys do: swings, climbs, runs and plays in the sprinklers.
He grudgingly agrees to take some pictures, and after about an hour of running we're ready to go. As we leave Savannah I realize we didn't really see it, but we experienced it for a bit. And that is good. I also realize that I like the Spanish moss hanging from the trees. And that I love old wooden doors and shutters. And that I CAN parallel park! It's all good!
We drive. The GPS is constantly on my case. Giving me warnings, and cautions, and one mile over the speed limit is starts scolding me. It's one mile, woman, one mile! The voice sounds overly anxious and slightly neurotic. Mikey and I agree: she is annoying. We name her Josie and I mute her. And we go on driving. In Brunswick we stop for lunch at Cracker Barrel. And here my heart is shattered to pieces. I lean over to kiss Mikey, and, for the first time, he pulls away. I get the much dreaded "yuck, no kisses mommy". I knew this day was coming and I was trying to prepare myself for it, but it is still painful. To make up for this loss, we hang out on the front porch after lunch and play checkers in the Georgia afternoon. It's peaceful. I feel better.
OK, time to go. Back in the car, Josie has lost her minds. Must have been because I left her in the heat. She can't find the satellite, and when she does the navigation app doesn't open, and when it finally opens she commits suicide and shuts off. Well, at least I know we have a long way on I95 so we can proceed forward for now. Plan B: I will get maps in Florida and we can navigate the old fashioned way. But driving without Josie is different. Oh, how I miss her tender care, her loving warnings and cautions, her careful directions, her voice full of concern! Even Mikey notices the absence but he is fine with it. In Florida we stop at the Welcome Center, get maps, run around, take pictures, play with some dogs and Mikey strikes conversations with whoever pays attention to him. He's such a social butterfly!
Mikey is waking up. He's tired, he's cranky. We try to talk and play his favorite games, but it does not work. He finds his loot of Florida maps and keeps himself busy with them for a while. Then it starts again: he can't do this, he's tired, he wants to go home, this is boring, why did we have to go all the way to Florida, when are we going to be there, etc. I am trying to hold it together. He's really mad at a map that he can't close, so he tears it up. For the next 10 minutes I hear him tearing it into little pieces methodically. And I let him. That's what he needs to do now.
Soon he feels better, and I realize how hard this is for him. See, I am OK, I want to keep going and going, but I have a little boy with me, and I can only push him that much. As much as I would like to make the rest of the trip in one stretch, I know I can't. He needs breaks. So we stop every 45 minutes or so, at rest areas to play tag and pet dogs, and in little towns to get gas, coffee, ice cream, or drive through dinner. This is better for Mikey. I stop watching the time We'll get there when we get there.
Around 9, it starts again. But this time I can tell he is really tired. We are one hour away, and I pray for patience to last through the whining. When he gets like this there's really not much we can talk about. After 20 minutes, he finally falls asleep. I find my way through Fort Lauderdale surprisingly easy, guided by now my best friend Josie. We pull in front of the cottage, and I carry Mikey half asleep into our home away from home. He wants to sleep on the couch, so I let him. He had a long day. He handled it very well. All in all, we had about 18 hours in the car over the past two days. He did good. He's a traveler in training.
We decide to spend the morning in Savannah before we head further South. Last night Mikey spotted a nice park with a playground so we back track our steps to get there. Parking is scarce, so we park four blocks away and walk. I like this. It's a residential neighborhood, with gorgeous architecture and sidewalks shaded by old trees. I could walk under tress like this with Mikey into eternity.
He grudgingly agrees to take some pictures, and after about an hour of running we're ready to go. As we leave Savannah I realize we didn't really see it, but we experienced it for a bit. And that is good. I also realize that I like the Spanish moss hanging from the trees. And that I love old wooden doors and shutters. And that I CAN parallel park! It's all good!
We drive. The GPS is constantly on my case. Giving me warnings, and cautions, and one mile over the speed limit is starts scolding me. It's one mile, woman, one mile! The voice sounds overly anxious and slightly neurotic. Mikey and I agree: she is annoying. We name her Josie and I mute her. And we go on driving. In Brunswick we stop for lunch at Cracker Barrel. And here my heart is shattered to pieces. I lean over to kiss Mikey, and, for the first time, he pulls away. I get the much dreaded "yuck, no kisses mommy". I knew this day was coming and I was trying to prepare myself for it, but it is still painful. To make up for this loss, we hang out on the front porch after lunch and play checkers in the Georgia afternoon. It's peaceful. I feel better.
OK, time to go. Back in the car, Josie has lost her minds. Must have been because I left her in the heat. She can't find the satellite, and when she does the navigation app doesn't open, and when it finally opens she commits suicide and shuts off. Well, at least I know we have a long way on I95 so we can proceed forward for now. Plan B: I will get maps in Florida and we can navigate the old fashioned way. But driving without Josie is different. Oh, how I miss her tender care, her loving warnings and cautions, her careful directions, her voice full of concern! Even Mikey notices the absence but he is fine with it. In Florida we stop at the Welcome Center, get maps, run around, take pictures, play with some dogs and Mikey strikes conversations with whoever pays attention to him. He's such a social butterfly!
I keep messing with Josie, and I find the reset button. I poke her in the back, and there she is! She's back again! And working! I apologize to her and then we go on. Soon Mikey falls asleep. The ride is long, we still have a good 5 hours. Around Jacksonville I feel claustrophobic, with all the work areas and the infernal traffic. I miss the openness of the Georgia interstate, and I long to be free of the constrictions of the big cities. Soon we leave it behind and I feel better. The traffic slows down, the highway seems wider, the vegetation on the median and on the sides is imperceptibly changing and I feel the road beckoning to me, calling me South; I dream of the place where the land meets the Ocean, where I can say that this is the furthest that this road can go. But I know we're not heading there yet.
Mikey is waking up. He's tired, he's cranky. We try to talk and play his favorite games, but it does not work. He finds his loot of Florida maps and keeps himself busy with them for a while. Then it starts again: he can't do this, he's tired, he wants to go home, this is boring, why did we have to go all the way to Florida, when are we going to be there, etc. I am trying to hold it together. He's really mad at a map that he can't close, so he tears it up. For the next 10 minutes I hear him tearing it into little pieces methodically. And I let him. That's what he needs to do now.
Soon he feels better, and I realize how hard this is for him. See, I am OK, I want to keep going and going, but I have a little boy with me, and I can only push him that much. As much as I would like to make the rest of the trip in one stretch, I know I can't. He needs breaks. So we stop every 45 minutes or so, at rest areas to play tag and pet dogs, and in little towns to get gas, coffee, ice cream, or drive through dinner. This is better for Mikey. I stop watching the time We'll get there when we get there.
Around 9, it starts again. But this time I can tell he is really tired. We are one hour away, and I pray for patience to last through the whining. When he gets like this there's really not much we can talk about. After 20 minutes, he finally falls asleep. I find my way through Fort Lauderdale surprisingly easy, guided by now my best friend Josie. We pull in front of the cottage, and I carry Mikey half asleep into our home away from home. He wants to sleep on the couch, so I let him. He had a long day. He handled it very well. All in all, we had about 18 hours in the car over the past two days. He did good. He's a traveler in training.
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