web analytics

Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

The Bumpy Backroad

The meaning was not lost on any of us.

“Mama, it’s a bumpy backroad, but it still gets us there,” Petya remarked.

“Exactly,” I agreed.

We were traveling back to pick-up Pasha from his couple-day, get-a-grip stay with friends, and it was like fish trying to find their way upstream.  The country roads would not “take us home” even if John Denver himself were sitting and strumming in the car.

First it was a funeral, which, in the south, means all of the facing cars pull off the road and wait for the procession to pass.  Then it was an ambulance, trying to wind its way through road construction lane closures and bumper-to-bumper traffic on a local highway.  Finally, the school buses pulled out by the dozens to collect their afternoon students.

We could not get there, and finally, after sitting in the same spot for over 30 minutes, gridlocked yet again, we drove “in” an “out” exit from a shopping center and headed for Benedetto’s bright idea.

“The train tracks,” he remembered.

“The train tracks?” I echoed.  I was not about to take the SUV down the rails.

“It’s a path that parallels the train tracks.  All of the locals know about it,” he said.

“We are not locals,” I replied, pointing out the obvious, as usual.

He made a call or two.  It was a guy thing.  The wives knew nothing about the path, where it started, or where it ended.  We finally caught up with one fellow who gave us the inside scoop.

There we headed down the heavily-rutted, dirt path.  Big potholes, bigger-still mud puddles. A couple of pickup trucks and SUVs pushed us toward the perimeter of the path, while we either allowed them to pass, or sidestepped them coming toward us.  Eventually, we made it, our insides jostled to the point of moans emanating from the back.  We reached their house.

Pasha was happy to see us, dressed in grey slacks and white polo, ready to greet us at the front door, bag nearby.

“I have decided to be good, Mama,” he hugged us and I congratulated him.

The family’s college-age son had engaged in a long talk with Pasha that opened his eyes to the error of his ways as only another young person might.  God bless him.

Pasha had done non-stop schoolwork, plus a few chores.  We told him how much we all missed him, and the dogs immediately jumped on his lap in the car.  They sensed that we were back to normal as we headed back to the bumpy backroad.

Whatever it took, we would reach our destination.  I preferred a more scenic route, or a smooth highway, but if the backroad took us there, I was happy that Benedetto knew about it.

The sun started moving lower in the sky, matzoh ball soup is cooking, the children returned from sports and are changing for dinner.  All is well, and we are thankful.

 

————–

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

4 Comments : Leave a Reply

  1. avatar hoonew says:

    Sounds like a great reunion after a metaphorical, and literal, bumpy ride.

  2. avatar Sybil says:

    May the New Year bring peace, happiness and sweetness, along with good health.

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.