Finding My Way

 My father and I shared an amazing sense of direction.   If we had been somewhere once we never needed directions again.   This was an excellent skill to have in the days before GPS.    I can remember many conversations we had in the car about the "best" way to get somewhere and the pitfalls of certain routes.   He would say, "well, that highway might be faster at noon but it's 4:30 now so it's best to go the back roads."

Father always knew best.

My father loved a good short cut and was always open to learning quicker ways to get places.

"Dad, did you know if you cut down Green Street you can bypass the downtown area completely by taking a left on Cypress and a right on Elm?"

He'd always be sure to call me and let me know a new short-cut worked, "Hey D, I tried Cypress/Elm and it cut two minutes off my trip to the post office.   Thanks for the tip."    And that's the way he'd go to the post office from that point forward.

Not everyone appreciated our ways.  Sometimes I'd tell my husband, "hey, if you go left here it's faster."

He'd respond, "Am I in a rush?"

"I guess not, but it's faster." I'd say.

He didn't care about saving a minute or two so he'd go the way he already knew.  The loooonger way.

In the extra minute or two we'd be on the road, I'd stare out the window and think, "My Dad would have taken that left."  

And it's not just about getting places faster, it's also a matter of just getting from point A to point B without getting lost.     My husband and my mother shared a terrible sense of direction.  The family joke was that they couldn't find their way out of a paper bag.   While this may sound harsh, please know that they drove together to pick me and my second born from the hospital after she was born and were two hours late to get me.  They went north when they should have gone south, and almost reached New Hampshire before they realized the error of their ways.  The nurses and I were all concerned (this was pre-cell phone), as I waited with my newborn, all strapped into her car seat, freshly breast fed, and photo-ready in an adorable going home outfit and a clean diaper.   By the time they got to us she needed to be fed and changed (and so did I :))

Whenever this story came up at family get togethers, my father and I would share a look as my mother and husband squabbled about who made the erroneous decision to go north.   There was never a truce over this.

If either of us had been in the car, this would have never have happened.   In fact, we would have been early because we would have known a short cut.

********************

The last thing my father would ever physically give me was an atlas of the United States.

My husband and I were fleeing  escaping  leaving Florida after my mother had died, and I had been diagnosed with covid.   My father had it too.  My husband and I had decided to drive home since I was unable to fly, and just wanted to sleep in my own bed.   When my father gave me the atlas I kind of poo-poo-ed him and said, "Dad, we have Google Maps and Waze, we don't need that.

"You never know D, it can come in handy."

My husband took it because he is kind and knew that it was important to my father that we take it.

I probably would have taken it too if I'd known that this was the last time I would physically see my father, and that this was the last thing he would give me.

But I didn't.

As we drove up the coast with a hurricane on our tail, the atlas sat on the floor of the backseat as google maps told us the fastest routes to take.   When we got to an important crossroads where we had to choose between the inland route and the coastal route, google maps was quick to tell us "the coastal route is faster. It is three hours faster than the inland route"

The atlas sat on the floor in the back, almost mocking us.

By the time we reached North Carolina the hurricane was coming closer and everyone was fleeing the beach for home.   There was no way google maps could have predicted the traffic we would face.  This was not a normal traffic pattern.  This was "get the hell out of dodge traffic."   There is no algorithm for that.

By the time we got to southern Virginia we were really stuck.   We were reaching out to friends, asking them to use their bigger monitors at home to help us navigate our way out of this bumper-to-bumper hell.  But, to no avail.  We were stuck.

The last day of our trip we drove through a toned down version of the hurricane, lots of wind and torrential downpours.    We made our way a bit inland and through the help of friends, found a route that was the least flooded.

Eventually, we made it home, a little later, and a lot wetter than we had hoped.

The day we got home, my Dad was admitted to the hospital with Covid and he would not leave alive.

I did have the chance to tell him over the phone about our epic trip home and the misfortunes we encountered.   The only thing he said was, "D, you should have gone inland."

"But Dad," I said, "Google maps assured us the coastal route was faster."

"You knew a hurricane was coming?"

"Yes, Dad"

"You know what the northeast corridor is like?"

"Yes, Dad"

"That's why I gave you the atlas"

"I know Dad.  I know."

I knew.

********************************

Ever since my parents died I have felt like I am adrift at sea in a boat without a compass.   I don't feel like I know North from South, East from West, left from right.

I can't get my bearings.

Google maps can't help me find my way.

This is new feeling for me.

Then I remember that the last gift my father gave me was an Atlas.

He wanted to make sure I always knew where I was going.   Always.

Even if he wasn't there to guide me.

Thanks Dad.

I'll find my way from here.