Sometimes, you just need to hit the road—even if spontaneity feels like a distant memory. When my children were born, I envisioned the future as something far off. Now, with my sons aged 22 and 20—one a recent college graduate and the other a junior thriving without the need for constant parental guidance—I find myself reflecting on time differently, exploring new experiences, and adjusting to this evolving phase of motherhood.
Instead of getting caught up in the back-to-school chaos like many parents, my husband and I decided on a whim to embark on a trip to Santa Fe, a destination we had long discussed. We set aside four and a half days for this journey from Dallas, not only to escape our routine but also to commemorate my tenth anniversary as a breast cancer survivor and my birthday, which coincidentally falls on the same day.
As we departed the city, the mundane backdrop outside the passenger window transformed into stunning vistas. I became absorbed in the changing scenery, embracing the rhythm of the open highway—lost in thought yet fully present. We drove for hours through the flat landscapes of the West until we reached Clovis, New Mexico, our planned stopover. Crossing the time zone was exhilarating; I felt a childlike glee watching my phone jump an hour ahead, as if I could manipulate time itself—slowing down and speeding up my own aging process.
After a restful night in Clovis, we continued our adventure the following morning. I settled into the passenger seat, snapping pictures, sharing snacks, and belting out tunes ranging from The Temptations’ “Papa Was A Rolling Stone” to a delightful mix of classic hits from Cat Stevens, Stevie Wonder, and Linda Ronstadt. Colorful freight trains sped beside us at times, adding to the excitement of our journey. At one point, as if on cue, Cat Stevens’ “Peace Train” played, perfectly complementing the moment.
During the drive, we enjoyed long stretches of comfortable silence. The sky painted our conversations in a way words could not. Our first evening in Santa Fe, which coincided with my birthday, was a blur, likely affected by what locals described as altitude sickness. We explored the town, and aside from an unfortunate encounter with a particularly spicy chili dish, it was a wonderfully different experience.
Later, we found ourselves at a bustling restaurant, seated in the bar area, waiting for a table. I sipped on mildly steeped hot tea to combat the elevation effects when I noticed a young mother struggling to manage her baby and dinner. After a few chaotic moments of passing the baby back and forth with her husband, I contemplated whether to offer assistance or risk being seen as a nosy stranger in my vibrant paisley wrap. When the father playfully interacted with his son, I caught my husband’s nostalgic expression—the kind that parents of older children get when they see young families in action.
As the baby faced typical toddler drama—his bottle dropping, a minor spit-up incident, and a little meltdown that was quickly soothed with kisses—I found myself relating to the couple. When the father apologized for the noise, I felt compelled to reassure them, recalling my own experiences of feeling scrutinized as a new mom. “You’re doing great,” I said. “No need to apologize.” The mother visibly relaxed as she shared their struggles to maintain a sense of normalcy since the baby’s arrival. It’s amusing how, with children, we initially believe they will fit seamlessly into our lives, only to find ourselves adapting to their world as they grow.
The next day, while wandering through art galleries and shops, I spotted the mother again. This time she was alone with her adorable baby, completely absorbed in the moment, radiating joy and wonder. It reminded me of the happiness I once felt as a young mother, filled with endless possibilities. Naturally, we stopped to say hello.
Our trip continued with more walks, meals, and a rainy drive to a flea market where we soaked in breathtaking views. On our return to Texas, we relished the quiet once more, occasionally listening to an audiobook and sharing laughter over the storylines—an effortless synchronization built over 27 years together. When it was my turn to drive, I couldn’t help but think of the images I was missing—the light was perfect. My husband soon took over driving duties again, allowing me to focus on capturing our adventure.
There were stretches of land where it felt like the earth met the sky, with fluffy white clouds inviting me to step out and play. How long had I overlooked this beauty? Why hadn’t anyone brought it to my attention?
This journey has been a decade-long evolution of growing up. I’ve learned that age doesn’t always equate to wisdom. In fact, each stage of life offers fresh opportunities to embrace youthfulness. The key lies in our willingness to view each new phase with open eyes, ready to adapt as life unfolds. Time never halts, but if we’re not mindful, we can easily lose ourselves in the hustle.
Our road trip rekindled my inner child. I played with time zones, raced trains, sang along to nostalgic tunes, and marveled at nature’s beauty. It was a fulfilling four and a half days, and thanks to Cat Stevens’ “Oh Very Young,” I rediscovered the essence of spontaneity. After all, life is fleeting, and it’s essential to enjoy every moment: “You’re only dancing on this earth for a short while.”
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Summary
A mother’s spontaneous road trip to Santa Fe serves as a reminder of the beauty of life’s transitions. As she celebrates milestones, she reflects on the joys and challenges of motherhood, finding joy in simple moments, and reconnecting with her youthful spirit.