road trip

I think we are going to visit the stepmother.

The jester is actually mildly protective of me. "Mom, why would you want to see her? I mean, don't get me wrong, I am kinda intrigued, but still . . . "

The princess is a bit excited - in the same way she was when she met Captain Hook and Mr. Smee at Disney World.

I am a bit concerned.

Because the reason for the trip is not to confront her - just closure. Just to look her in the face once more and let it filter through my brain . . . that was really my life.

But I have nightmares of my children saying something completely out of line.

"Hey Crazy! Did you mind if I call you Crazy? Hey, tell us about the time you smacked my mom around on her birthday!"

"No, no - tell the one where you let the rabid pigs chase 6 year-old Uncle D. around the back yard! That's my favorite!!"

"Oooooh - what about the time when you cut all of my mom's hair off while she cried?! Tell us that one Crazy stepmother!"

The plan is to drive to California this summer. If I am brave we will go back to the house on HastiAcres. If I am really brave, I will ask to go inside, just for a minute, and I will stand where my six-year old self stood watching my mother die. I will hold my own first graders hand, and be grateful we have made it this far.

After I have done that - even crazy won't seem so scary.