"I'm ready to take a nap or go for a walk,"said Carol F.
My eye lids were resting at half-staff. I really wanted a short snooze. But I wanted to walk outside more. So I grabbed my sneakers and sweatshirt and headed out.
Down the hill we went. Two women in their 60's who are not quite as athletic as the rest of the group. A walk after dinner is about all we manage at home. Perhaps mountain climbing should not have been our first choice. I took note of the Beware of Dog sign, but after that kept focused on walking at a downwards slant without going head over heels. The weeds, Carol pointed out, are the only green things changing color. I admired the Queen Anne's lace and rock cairns on the side of the road as we talked. It was not long before we came to the realization that a) going downhill means an uphill walk home which could prove problematic, and b)nothing looked familiar. Note to self: most gravel driveways and log cabins look alike on the outside. Dropping bread crumbs might have been prudent.
But I really didn't worry because I knew we were only one driveway away from the Beware of Dog sign. All we had to do was spy it and we would be home free. I soon discsovered the sign wasn't where I thought it would be. As we pondered the proverbial fork in the road, the AAA truck which was coming to our cabin to fix a flat tire that Leeanne had luckily spotted before headed home came rumbling up the hill.
"Is this where I turn?" asked Donnie in a thick Georgia accent, hopping down from his truck like it wasn't three feet off the ground. If he thought the sight of us wondering like lost dogs, he didn't say so. Yes, Amy, people are friendlier in Georgia.
"Well yes," Carol and I answered in unison sounding much more sure of our surroundings than we felt. "Well, maybe."
"The directions say turn at Sky Something Road, so this must be it," said Donnie. "The lady on the phone gave my dispatcher these directions."
"Yes we're with that lady, so you can just follow us. Let's turn here."
With Carol on one side of the road and me on the other (still looking for the only landmark I'd recognize) the Red AAA truck moved slowly up the gravel road. We didn't go far before we reached another fork in the road. Each driveway leading to a dead end. Each going uphill. I did not have the sense that we had not ventured this faraway from our home away from home, but was no longer able to say from which direction we had come.
"I'll call Laura," I said.
Donnie used Carol's phone to call Leeanne, who was standing on the porch watching for the truck, like a 17th century whaler's wife. Laura's line was busy, so I left an "we're lost" SOS and headed back to the first fork. Part of me wanted to cry like a little girl. Another part wanted laugh like a crazy woman. Because really, it's kind of ludicrous that we were so lost.
In the meantime Donnie was having a conversation with Laura, our own GPS Siri.
"These ladies are really lost," he told her. I can bring 'em back with me, if that's okay.
Laura assured him that we were location-challenged but quite harmless otherwise. It would be fine to let us in his truck. So Donnie backed down to a turn in the road (where he should have gone straight before) then stopped to let us in.
"Y'all be careful of that step," he warned.
Good God, I thought to myself, when I saw how high it was.
Up a little ways, and around a bend, the Beware of Dog sign appeared. And then, up ahead, there it was. Home. Like Dorothy finding herself back at Aunty Em's house after her trip to Oz, I felt relieved and wondered if the trip really happened.
The thing about being a writer is every adventure can be turned into a story.
I mean, what are the chances of getting lost after 2 turns and being rescued by clean-cut, polite, slow talking Donnie in a Duck Dynasty T-shirt. That kind of stuff is hard to make up.
Wishing for you adventures that make you smile,