LM Dalton drives and reflects on what makes her partnership last.
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I have just left a week-long writers retreat at Esalen and it will be a long drive home. Under overcast skies I will travel the winding road that curves along the Pacific Ocean for more than 50 miles. Going North, the single lane road hugs the mountainside while the opposing traffic drives along the precarious edge of the cliff. I’m surprised that I actually enjoyed the southern route more, or rather, I felt safer on the outside where there is a wider berth to navigate. On the inside I feel a bit skittish as tight, blind turns take me around bends I cannot gauge.
Kinda like my life.
Feeling confident with the road I’m on has gotten easier over the years. Having more than my fair share of white-knuckle moments along my journey, I have learned that destinations have more than one route and it feels a whole lot better when I’m the driver. Being a passenger is an anxiety-producing experience that, anyone who knows me will tell you, makes me a bit annoying while riding shotgun. Especially for the long hauls.
“Bring a chew toy,” Mark will say when we head out on a road trip in his truck. I fill my bag with distractions; books, music and my phone. I spend my time reading, deleting emails, updating my contacts or cruising Yelp for our next meal stop. Sometimes I look out the side window if we are somewhere lovely, which is often the case.
The truth is, I really love being on the road . . . from behind the wheel. My new car is a perfect vehicle to take on our weekend jaunts, and his acceptance of the “my car, I drive” theory is one of the many ways he shows his love for me, since I know he would rather be driving. He is the best co-pilot I’ve ever had packing an iPod full of badass playlists, a collection of healthy snacks and his big, strong left hand to hold on the straightaway. If Louise could have taken him with her, Thelma would have been left at home.
The sun keeps trying to break through the clouds as I shuffle through my own iPod looking for the playlist I made for Mark’s birthday. The first song that plays is by Merlin, his band in the ’80s he was playing in when we met. The build-up of the live show’s introduction of them lifts the energy in the car and I float along the winding road, effortlessly taking each sharp curve. I can see him on the stage, dark hair framing his beautiful, bearded face, standing out from behind the drums, from behind the band.
Lifting the T-shirt he recently left behind in my passenger seat, I wrap it around my neck. Inhaling deeply, I can smell his scent and he’s beside me again, taking the ride with me, singing songs (which happens to be the title of this Merlin track).
After over 30 years I am still infatuated with this man.
The road has straightened and I pass through Monterey; singing each song loudly. The sun shines brightly and I brace myself for the upcoming Bay Area traffic, thinking of what Mark might be doing now, in the woods on his own men’s retreat, miles from the outside world.
It was happenstance that sent us in opposite directions for the same week; him in Mendocino with nearly a hundred men and me in Big Sur with writers, studying The Way of Story.
What makes us so good together is that we both choose to do work on ourselves, by ourselves. We seek to grow individually which helps us grow as a couple. Yet, I can’t wait to see him and share what this week has been for me, and listen to every detail of his adventure. Only a couple more days and we will have a lovely, rich reunion.
Smiling at this delicious thought, I take another whiff of his shirt as I continue on the road home.
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Photo Credit: Cleg Unojeghuo/Unsplash
