“I can’t believe we’re going to be fifty next year,” Shonna complained while driving to Carmel. “Those twentysomethings with their perfect bodies make me feel like a sack of potatoes – lumps and bulges everywhere.”
“I hear you, but we know time is the great equalizer. Those twentysomethings will have their own cellulite and love handles to contend with some day and they’ll know how it feels being looked at with pity by kids half their age.”
“True. And payback is hell. But I hate my Grandma-wave-goodbye arms.”
“Your what?”
“The way my upper arms jiggle when I wave. And the fact that I suddenly need my reading glasses more often.”
“There have to be good things about turning fifty,” I said. “I mean, sex gets better with age, right?”
“Wrong! I thought we had this discussion. When the plumbing works, it’s great. When it doesn’t, it stinks. Maybe you should add getting laid to your list.”
I slapped Shonna’s shoulder. “Stop it!”
I opened the notepad app on my phone. “Okay. I’ll take notes. What’s good about turning the big five 0?”
“If you’re through menopause, you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant,” Shonna said, “and you’re freer between the sheets.”
I typed Don’t worry about pregnancy. Feel freer during sex.
“Kid-free. More me time.” I typed.
“Except for morons like me who put off starting a family,” Shonna said.
“More disposable income. We can spend hours online buying random stuff we don’t need, but want.”
Shonna sighed. “Again, for some.”
“Here’s one. AARP discount.”
“This isn’t helping me,” Shonna said.
“You get to wear a red hat and feather boa.”
Shonna turned on the radio. “That’s it. No more.”
I laughed. And closed the app on my phone.
We listened to a playlist of eighties music I’d made.
“Man, there were some really good artists in the eighties,” I said. “Whitney. Michael Jackson. Prince.”
“I can’t believe they’re all gone,” Shonna said. “We’ve lost so many great artists.”
“It makes me realize that no one gets through life without some trial. Everyone is fighting a battle of some kind. You just might not know it.”
By the time we pulled into Carmel, we’d exhausted a number of topics, including homemade face packs, the horrors of hot flashes, whether it was okay for me to become a cougar and date a guy a lot younger (for the record, Shonna said yes and I said no), the beauty of Botox and my obsession with all things pink.
The streets were crowded with cars and people, but I spotted a space on the right and Shonna was able to snag it.
“Look at this,” she said. “They knew we were coming.”
The tree-lined streets of Carmel were loaded with boutiques. We strolled along Ocean Avenue, slipping in and out of shops filled with jewelry, antiques, fashions and more.
Art galleries, wine-tasting rooms, fine restaurants – Carmel had it all.
“I could totally spend a week here,” Shonna said.
I looked up at the store we were about to enter. “I’m glad we decided to stop.” We’d planned to go straight to Monterey, but Steve and Jake had suggested we stop here and I was glad we had. They were right. It was a charming place with its stone-paved alleyways, uneven sidewalks and tree-lined streets.
Meandering down a side street, Shonna almost fell but steadied herself. “I’m so glad I wore sneakers.”
I laughed. “Well, the city does have a High Heel Ordinance.”
“You’re joking.”
I held up my phone. “No, I read it online. Apparently, no heels over two inches are permitted on the sidewalks without a license from City Hall. No citations have ever been issued, though.” I laughed.
Weighed down with bags, we headed toward our car.
“I want my shop to be just like these. Unique. Cozy. A place where people come in to shop and find something unexpected.”
“I wish I lived closer so I could help. Building the boutique from the ground up will be so much fun.”
When we left Carmel, we decided to take Highway 1, which hugs the California coast, to Monterey. The rugged, windy road offered breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean. We ended our night with dinner and drinks at the hotel bar. The next morning, we hit Cannery Row, soaking in a bit of history, before heading to San Francisco, our final destination.
Shonna pulled out her selfie stick and we took a photo standing in front of an old sardine canning factory on the waterfront street.
“I have to send this to my mom,” Shonna said. “She loves sardines!”
I scanned the area. “I love how new life has been given to these old buildings. They didn’t just tear them down, but reinvented them, turning them into hotels, shops and restaurants.”
“Sort of sounds like what you want to do with your new place.”
“Exactly. I want to reinvent something old and turn it into something new, but honor its past.”
I couldn’t help thinking I was also reinventing myself. I was learning to embrace change, even when it arrived with its companions, Fear and Uncertainty. And I’d realized that passion was what got me out of bed in the morning. It’s what made me love every moment of every day. And I needed to follow that passion, no matter how rugged or rocky the road.
We spent our time in San Francisco exploring the hilly city, tucked between the Pacific Ocean and San Francisco Bay. We stayed across from Union Square in a historic hotel, which put us in the middle of the action. We walked up Lombard Street, strolled across the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, road a cable car, visited the colorful Victorian houses and, of course, took a selfie on the corner of Haight and Asbury streets.
After visiting Fisherman’s Wharf, we thought we’d ride the cable car back up the hill to the hotel, but the line was so long we decided to walk. And what a walk it was! Hills, hills and more hills.
“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about working out,” I told Shonna.
She sighed. “I’m sweating and you know how much I hate sweating.”
“But just think,” I reasoned. “The more calories you burn, the more you can drink when we get back to the hotel.”
“You do have a point.”
Walking back to our hotel was grueling. I thought my legs were going to fall off. “I’m definitely going to feel this in my calves tomorrow.”
Neither of us spoke the last few blocks. It took all of our energy to put one foot in front of the other. When we finally made it back, we headed straight for the room to rest and shower.
Later that night at the hotel bar, Shonna asked what my favorite part of the trip had been.
“I’d have to say spending time with you. We haven’t spent this much time together since we were in high school. We need to do this more often. Maybe take a trip once a year. It doesn’t have to be a road trip, but we should go somewhere, even if it’s only for a few days. Just the two of us. No kids and no husbands. Just us.”
Shonna held up her glass. “I’ll toast to that.”
“What about you? Any favorite parts?”
Shonna bit her lower lip. “I loved it all. The small towns. The kitschy roadside attractions, like the Gemini Giant in Wilmington, Illinois and the Giant Milk Bottle in Oklahoma City. It was just plain fun. And I missed the kids and Roger more than I thought I would. It’s good to be going home.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’m ready to get back and work on my dream. If anything, I’m re-energized and more determined to succeed. I realize life is full of opportunities, but I’m often so busy fast forwarding through life that I never stop to see them. I’m trying to change that.”
It was hard saying goodbye to Shonna at the airport. We were boarding different flights going in different directions, but I knew we’d remember this road trip forever. I pulled out my list and crossed off Take a road trip with my bestie.