Day 17 - No Do-Overs
Las Vegas, NV to Salt Lake City, UT
Officially, that's a decision I'm second guessing...
Validation around that second-guessing came about two hours after leaving Las Vegas and heading North through Nevada into Western Utah along Interstate 15. Conor had been quiet for a while when he spoke up and said that he loved the Grand Canyon, and that he really enjoyed Fort Worth and Austin, and that so far, those were his favorite parts of the trip, but he didn't really like Vegas; too noisy. He went on to say that he may like it as an adult, but now that he's been there, he really didn't need to go back.
When I think about what Las Vegas really is, maybe I shouldn't be second guessing it at all... Based on that statement, going to Las Vegas could be the best decision I've ever made! A city built on gambling, debauchery, and indulgences, not to mention how expensive that ridiculous place is, and now that he's seen it he doesn't feel the need to go back? Hell, I may be up for Father of the Year!
No use looking back I guess. It's behind us... Best intentions and all that. But if I had it to do all over again, I'd leave Sin City alone.
Just as that conversation was wrapping up my navigation cracked to life that it was time to exit. We were heading to a place called Hurricane, UT, though along the way I'd planned a stop for the St. George Dinosaur Discovery Site in St. George, UT. We exited the highway and Conor was fairly excited to get back to focusing on his interests - those being all things biological, living or dead. If I haven't mentioned it, this kid loves dinosaurs and Paleontology. And not in the cute, "look Daddy! A T-Rex!" four year old version of dinosaurs. It's on a whole other level for Conor. He legitimately geeks out and consumes information by the terabyte. For years Sara would crack a colloquial expression when talking about smart people, "Be nice to nerds, you'll work for one someday." Indeed.
The Discovery Site was absolutely worth the visit and was manned by actual Paleontology students from the University of Utah. Upon learning this, Conor engaged them as though he were on a peer level. But what surprised me was that they responded in kind. It was really cool to hear them talking about carbon-dating as they pointed us toward an area of the exhibit that contained information on how scientists are able to determine the age of something through the use of radiometric dating - a term I'd never heard but evidently Conor had.
After an hour in this place we decided to press on into Hurricane, as there are a number of four-wheel drive parks here and just the thing Ms. Sylvia was built to do. But something happened along the way.
As we made the turn from the main road into Quail Creek State Park, there below us was the Quail Creek Reservoir; a beautiful crystal blue and turquoise lake situated between the mountain ridges of this park. It was unexpected and immediately sparked Conor's interest for wanting to take a swim. I agreed that we would circle back and take a dip - just as soon as we drove this trail to the top of the mountain. He gave me a look of protest and grew quiet, not saying much of anything as we existed the blacktop and began our ascent. About 2/3rds of the way up the mountain the terrain became more and more uneven and the bouncing and jostling of the truck was a bit overwhelming for Conor, I think. Though more than that, pounding up this mountain just wasn't what he wanted to do, especially after seeing that reservoir. And that's when he threw his punch. "Mommy would have hated this."
Gut punch - and he knew it, too. I stopped the truck and looked at him, not saying anything. He just looked away out the window. I climbed out of the rig and stood above it on the mountain side looking down on the valley trying to determine my next move. After calming myself a bit, I got back in the truck and dropped her down into reverse, descending backwards on a 25% hill face would require all of my concentration. When we finally made the turn and started heading back down the mountain toward the reservoir, I told him that I thought what he said was uncool, and that if his intent to was to hurt my feelings, he'd succeeded.
He stayed quiet and continued staring out the passenger side window as the truck slowly turned back onto the blacktop. We didn't say a word to one another until we were inside the State Park and the vehicle was in park. I sat there quietly, determined to wait him out. After a few minutes he started to cry. Of course, now all I want to do is hold on to him but I wanted him to process all of this on his own, too. He finally turned to me and said, "I know you're doing the best you can, Dad. And I appreciate it. But it's you who's healing out here. Not me! And I miss Mommy! And I just want to hug her again and tell her I love her but I can't And I know you love me, but I miss MOMMY!" and in that moment, he balled up his fist and threw a straight punch into the passenger side door panel, making a loud crunching sound; his knuckles cracking into the plastic. I said nothing. We both just sat there in the parking lot while the truck ran at idle.
After a few minutes he turned away from the door toward the windshield facing the crystal blue waters in front of us, wiped his nose and said, "are you mad?" I responded immediately - almost before he could finish the question, "No." And then he said, "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Dad. I'm just really sad." We talked another minute more, acknowledging that we're both sad but that we're doing the best we can, too. And I went back to what I've said to him in the beginning... "It's okay to have these feelings, Conor, and it's really good to get them out, but we can't live in them. Take a breath, compose yourself, and keep going. Ready to go swimming?"
The hot dry air and cragged red rock against the turquoise waters of the reservoir would have been healing enough, at least in that moment. But then Conor said, "Mommy would have really loved this place, Dad.", as though his way of getting back to neutral. More than anything I appreciated that he recognized that his words have consequences and that this was his way of righting a wrong.
Our swim in the reservoir was awesome. Conor made a few friends in the hour or so we were there and they ran along the shoreline flipping rocks and capturing crawfish in a plastic water bottle to study in the sunlight. The kid has never met a stranger and I have to say, he comes by that honestly because neither have Sara or I, either.
When we changed clothes and made it back to the truck I asked if he wanted to stop any more for the day. There was Zion National Park just up the road as well as a number of other State Parks and attractions this beautiful State has to offer. He said no, instead asking that we make our way toward Dinosaur National Park in Colorado. From where we were there was no direct route, so we elected to make our way to Salt Lake City, Utah for the night - another 4 hours in the truck, and so we pressed on.
When we got to our hotel, a Best Western just off the highway, it was 9pm Mountain Time and we were both exhausted. Upon checking in Conor noted there was a small pool and a hot-tub. He also noted that there was a Wendy's right next door. He said, "Dad, it's been a long day. How about we get a couple of Frostys and relax in the hot tub, whaddya say?" I said, "I couldn't agree more, Bud. Let's do it."
As we sat there in the hot tub relaxing alongside the jets not saying much of anything he said, "Dad, this has been one of my favorite days, too. Thank you for always listening to me." I put my head back and stared at the ceiling to hide my face, muttering the only thing I could as tears streamed from my eyes. "You bet, Buddy. I love you."
He may not recognize it yet, but he's absolutely on a Healing Road and one day he and I will both look back at this day and remember what it all means. In life, there are no do-overs. No (real) use in second guessing. There's just the road and the need to stay on it, through good times and bad.
Today we're on to Dinosaur National Park, as is the wish of the co-pilot, and I'm all too happy to oblige. Down the Healing Road we go.
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