Basil is launched, and I only teared up twice. With limited days to take off from my job of teaching calculus and limited availability of my favorite substitute teacher Esther, I decided to put all our time together into a memorable road trip out to Daytona Beach, Florida in Basil’s truck.
I don’t know what my expectations for conversation were, but I had a list of all the things I wanted to tell Basil including my hopes, dreams, fears, and expectations for him as well as general warnings about dangers to the salvation of his soul! Basil listened to all my monologues throughout the trip and grunted appropriately. If nothing else he knows how to humor me. I can’t remember any pithy replies, but he gave me many of his charming smiles; and somehow we spent most of our twenty-four hours on the road binge-listening to his current favorite podcast, “The Amelia Project.” It was very silly, but I liked listening to it with him. It’s about a secret company that can fake someone’s death and start them in a new life. Some of their customers include the Loch Ness Monster and an alien.
We made huge progress on our first day of driving. Esther took my first-period class so we could have an early start. Mike took Basil and me out for a big breakfast at Weck’s. We were so full, that we didn’t stop for lunch and subsisted on gas station chips and candy throughout the afternoon. Basil didn’t let me drive at all, but he never tired. He was like a machine and even sported a Terminator look with his dark sunglasses. Basil really wanted to eat at our favorite sushi handroll bar Hatsiuki, but when we arrived there with his friend Ezra, they were full till closing. They don’t take reservations, and their waiting list for the evening was a mile long. We ate at Tricky Fish instead and dropped Ezra off at home. Then before checking into our hotel, Basil and I went to Target to get some bins for his truck and some air tags. He put one in his truck and named it Nektarios.
The next morning, Basil was on a mission to get his Hatsiuki. It was the Feast of the Transfiguration, so I opted to let him go on his way while my dear friends Magdelena and Seraphim picked me up and took me to their Greek Church St. Demetrius for the celebration of the feast. I saw my other dear friend Lydia and my dear friends Ruth and Bert there too. I was so happy at how my morning had gone that I didn’t mind that I ended up eating food from Starbucks while Basil made my mouth water with tales of eel hand rolls and salmon belly. I could live off of salmon belly but give me a pass on eel! I also didn’t mind that we were starting our day’s journey close to two in the afternoon.
We headed east towards Dallas and when we had almost passed through the metroplex, I mentioned that Mom’s grave was just a bit of a detour off our path. Basil took the next exit, and we meandered through the Texan country roads till we found the St. Xenia Cemetery at the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ Monastery. The nuns weren’t around, probably because of the feast day, but we walked over to Mom’s grave where I gave her the latest updates on all my kids and my sisters and nephews and nieces. My nephew Kuahiwi had been in a motorcycle accident, and I asked Mom for her prayers. He’s doing great now! I had no reason to stay longer but didn’t want to leave. I ran back for one last moment with her and put my arms around the sun-kissed marble headstone. Basil came back too and put his arms around me. I felt warm all over and very, very loved.
More country roads led us back to I-20 and soon we crossed into Louisiana. My phone had multiple suggestions on how to drive through the state. Basil’s truck navigation had its opinion too. I called my friend Mary who has lived in Louisiana for advice, and her route matched the car GPS.
Basil said, “Let Nektarios lead us!”
So that’s what we did. We tried to eat at Crab King in Alexandria, Louisiana for dinner, but it was closed so all we got was a picture with the massive crab claw statue. We ate steak and lobster at Outback instead. Then we drove until late in the evening and spent the night in Baton Rouge.
The next morning, Basil complained about his arm resting on the windowsill being uncomfortable and first thing drove us over to Hobby Lobby. We wandered through the store and then bought the supplies to make a solution. We cut a thick piece of foam and wrapped it in a grippy shelf liner, securing it with small safety pins. Then we covered three sides with a soft black velvet. It worked like a charm and Basil showed it proudly to my aunt and uncle when we got to Florida.
We spent Friday morning driving through the rest of Louisiana and Mississippi and had lunch in Biloxi at Half Shell Oyster House. Mississippi is the best place for fried green tomatoes. No other state has a handle on their style. After the appetizer, Basil had oysters and I ate portabella mushrooms stuffed with crab, one of the best meals of the trip! I asked our waitress who was Russian where I could put my feet in the Gulf of Mexico.
“Why vould you do that?” she asked but gave directions to a local beach.
Basil wouldn’t get out of the truck. The temperature was reading one hundred and eight degrees, and the beach was deserted except for a shirtless old man who went running by. I took my sandals off and ran through the burning sand into the hot water. It was like bath water. It was like hot tub water. It felt strange and not at all like the fresh cool spring I was imagining. I took my Facebook pictures to post and ran back to the truck where Basil teased me, “That was fast.”
We drove through Mobile, Alabama, and over to the panhandle of Florida. We weren’t hungry when we went through Tallahassee and kept going. Basil pulled into a gas station off the freeway to get gas and some snacks. He let me pump the gas and move the truck to a parking spot while he was inside. That was the sum of my driving for the whole trip. Well past dinnertime, we tried stopping off in a small town that my phone said had another crab place, but it was closed. Most of the streetlights were out and the whole town felt creepy. My uncle said their electricity had been knocked out by the last storm. I ate peach cobbler at a truck stop close to our hotel in Yulee, Florida.
We spent Saturday morning with my Aunt Pat and Uncle Chris at their home in Fernandina Beach. I value my aunt as a repository of my family history. Her memories of my grandmother and mother help me understand my children’s experiences in the context of their generational place. She helps me see the patterns repeating like fractals. There is comfort in recognizing the familiar. After a walk about their property and a breakfast of tea and pastries, the four of us went to the ocean and walked in the surf. The waves were warmer than those in the Pacific Ocean, but so much better than the Gulf Waters. Unbroken shells decorated the sand, and we all had a great time walking around enjoying the wind and waves and each other. We ate lunch at a restaurant that gets its fish off the boats of the local fishermen. It was the freshest food I’ve had in forever. Then Basil and I headed south for the two-hour drive to Daytona Beach.
I can’t get enough of the ocean. That’s why I booked Basil and me at an ocean-view, beach-access hotel. After settling into our room, Basil lay on his bed to rest, but I put on a swimming suit and headed to the beach. I jumped around in the water until a wave knocked me flat on my back. The water was shallow, but the outgoing waves pulled me in while another incoming wave crashed over my head.
“I’m going to drown in six inches of water!” I thought as I struggled to stand up. I finally sat up and took a breath before the next wave hit my face. I can get off the floor, but it usually takes some time and thought. I don’t know if it was the fall or the frantic twisting afterwards, but my right hip and leg haven’t been the same since. Unpredictable pain now shoots from hip to knee and then goes away again. That didn’t stop Basil and I from heading out again on Sunday afternoon. This time the tide was in, and we left early and went swimming in the hotel pool. Basil grinned and swam away from me every time I went over to his side, so I went to the hot tub until Basil was ready for dinner. Now I want a hot tub!
Sunday morning, we went to the Antiochian church twenty minutes away. They are a small parish whose choir is made up of whoever wants to stand in the back left corner. Basil ran off to find friends and told me to sit with the old ladies, which I did with joy. I found him later with the priest’s family. Their oldest son, who is Basil’s age, had just left for college and the youngest brother in the clan had claimed Basil for his own.
After church, we went to Costco, Target, and JCPenney to buy dorm stuff. The Target was almost all sold out. He might need to get more things from Amazon.
I told Basil, “I want to spoil you so get whatever you want.”
A bit later in the afternoon Basil told me, “You spend too much money. I don’t need any more stuff.” I appreciated his frugality but felt frustrated in my last-ditch effort to love on my most middle child.
Monday was move-in day. The registration was a drive-through affair. A crowd of college students cheered and whistled as we drove through and waved handmade painted signs that said, “Welcome Home!” At the end of the tunnel, a girl ran up to my window and asked, “Is that the student driving?”
I choked up and could only nod as she handed me a parent folder and her partner on Basil’s side of the car asked him for his name and student ID.
As we drove off to the dorms, I said, “That made me cry.”
Basil said, “Yeah, that was a bit much.”
After we got all Basil’s stuff moved in and met one of his roommates and his parents who are from South Korea, Basil spent the next three hours trying to get his computer set up. I gradually weakened with starvation. We got his identification card made and looked around the food court. Nothing looked good to him, so we ended up going out to Cracker Barrel after stopping off at Best Buy for a connector cable and new headphones.
Back on campus, I went to a parent orientation meeting and then met up with Basil at his dorm where he had attended his own meeting. I met a new friend who helped me join the parent Facebook group, and I read my latest find, Change is the Only Constant: The Wisdom of Calculus in a Madcap World.
Once Basil completed his computer setup, he took me to have one last frolic in the waves. He again stayed in the truck while I ran out and danced in the water. I appreciated the solitude at the little beach which had been recommended by my friend Tana.
Next, Basil drove me to my hotel in Orlando.
The lady who checked me in asked, “How are you.”
“I just dropped my son off at college.”
“That’s why you look so miserable,” she said. I felt embarrassed though validated, and again tears came to my eyes.
I was sad alone in my hotel but ate a candy bar from the hotel store and fell asleep.
I thought of Basil attending his orientation meetings as I flew to Dallas, but during the long layover after my plane left without me because a storm in Florida made us late to land, I turned my thoughts to home. My little ones were happy to have me. Mike was relieved I was home, and Misha grabbed a toy and stuck it in his mouth, a feat he had mastered in the seven days I’d been away. I feel like Basil will do well at college. I’m glad to have been a part of his journey, but it’s good to be back.
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