LIFE PATH? SHOULDN’T THERE BE BETTER SIGNS

My life path included picking up a rental car in Barcelona, Spain. A taxi took me from the VRBO apartment in the Gothic District to the train station car office.

The key to success was memorizing the path back. I had two chances since I didn’t know to bring my passport for a car rental.

From the apartment to the car office, then back to apartment, and back to the car place. With an extra trip I felt like I knew Barcelona as well as I needed to get out of town.

Except in between renting a car and driving back, the city blocked streets for the Barcelona Marathon later in the morning.

I got lost, took the wrong turn, and ended up on a pedestrian walkway manned by police with machine guns. After hurdling the language barrier, and looking at that nasty heater, I got back on my life path.

My wife and mother in law were overjoyed.

We packed out while the next tenants waited. They were from Seattle and jet lagged and looked like I felt when I got there. All I wanted to do was lay down and sleep, which isn’t the best way to spend time in a beautiful city.

From one thing to another, we made our way south to Valencia, then Granada, with Seville the final stop. The idea was to turn in the car in Granada and take the train over to Seville.

Life Path Had Other Ideas

After an eventful week in town, we had to leave Granada in a hurry. The train wasn’t fast enough, so I rented another car.

My command of the Spanish language is similar to any mime acting out. With patience and understanding on one side, and a gesturing jackass on the other, I got the car.

Pack the gear? Check. Pack mother in law? Check. Find wife?

I had to scheme up an idea on how to break her out of Granada calmly. She’d had a medical emergency that resulted in hospital time in a foreign country.

After a poor outcome from treatment, I like to think I saved her.

With time on my side during the weekend when the doctor’s were on call, no one spoke English. I found a Romanian cleaning lady to save the day. Talk about an essential worker, she spoke many languages.

Since I’d checked out of the hotel, I needed to find a parking place near the hospital for a fast getaway. But there were no parking spots.

I’d stopped in an outdoor plaza of a local restaurant a few times and on travel day I asked if I could park my car in their dining area. I explained the situation, asked for ten minutes, and left my mother in law in the car to go find my wife.

She’d been moved. Again. After I found her room I casually rolled up with a wheelchair I found in the hall, and away we went.

I got a speeding ticket for leaving town so fast on my life path.

Working It Out

If you’ve ever traveled with adults, you know the deal: Everyone has something no one knew about. Their life path is like Lombard Street in San Francisco.

Not a direct line. But I’m more of a direct line guy. Going from one place to the next should be easy enough? Working through the detours is better than melting down, and it was hot.

That’s when I found some inspiration. I was not a tourist, I was a caregiver, and that adjustment made all the difference.

For the rest of the trip I calmed down and counted days. We WOULD have fun. And we WOULD make it home. That was my signature move, optimism.

Instead of being a downer waiting for the next shoe to drop, I watch-dogged. If everyone was happy, then I was happy, too. And it was a relief. An inspiration.

Instead of going dark, I lit up with every suggestion of things to do, places to go, like anything mentioned was the best Idea I’d ever heard. In other words, I persevered and put my needs aside.

Part of that was making a personal promise to myself to hug the first person I knew when I got home.

Unfortunately, the first person I saw was someone I didn’t particularly like. He was a bad coach in youth sports. But a promise is a promise. And yes, it was awkward. Sorry, Steve.

I literally kissed the ground when I got home. The hug came a day later.

When your life path takes you unexpected places, pay attention because the detour is part of the long, strange, trip. It might be the best part.

We still laugh about our time in Spain, but some louder than others. Am I right, boys?

Walk that life path with love and you’ll always get where you’re going.