Spring Break 2.0

^ Margy, Jeri, Mary and Lindsay. Yours truly is behind the camera. 

Spring Break 1979

That was the first time I ever took a warm weather winter vacation. A carload of my dorm girlies and I trekked from Michigan to Fort Myers, Florida, to spend a week in the sun at one of the girl's parents' new condo. 

We did not fully grasp ahead of time the fact that said condo was in a retirement community. But that's a story for another day.

My point here is that that junior year trip to Florida was not only my first snow-to-sunshine getaway, but until last month, it was also my last. 

Uh huh. Yes. You heard that right.

For more years than I care to count, I have never taken another mid-winter escape vacation.

Not one.

Now don't feel too sorry for me. I've enjoyed a zillion fabulous vacations.

But I hadn't indulged in another cold-to-warm weather trip until my eldest said to me last summer, "I'm going to be so sad when pool season is over. I might need to go somewhere warm next winter to get a fix."

And I, knowing to strike when the iron was finally hot, said, "Yes. I'm in."

Which is how we came to find ourselves in sunny Palm Springs, California, last month with crystal clear expectations as to how we were to spend our long weekend:

Go to pool.

Read. 

Swim and splash about.

Eat.

Check, check, check. And check.

We had a glorious stay under the blissfully blue desert sky, and I've got the pics to prove it. Who knows, I may not wait another forty-six years to go back. 

^ The Saguaro Hotel is a delicious treat of rainbow flavored exteriors. This would be the citrus section.

^ Morning light reveals the San Jacintos in all their glory. 

^ Baby flowers match the purple walls. Freaking adorable.

^ I'm going to be honest. The interiors of the hotel are ho-hum at best. The pool area and surrounding courtyard are where the Saguaro packs its punch, and boy, does it ever. 

^ Fish tacos are my jam. These were delicious.

^At first, my eye was tricked into seeing these as some of those orange plastic construction fences. But they were actually cool steel barriers that created cozy little spaces here and there in the massive courtyard, and set off the landscaping. Love. 

^ I'm not one for drinking alcohol in the sunshine, but if you offer me a complimentary margarita, I will say yes. 

^ Looking up.

^ By the time the pizza arrived, I forgot all about taking photos. 

^ My idea of cute al fresco dining. 

^ The Holy Grail.

^ The room aesthetics did not tick a whole lot of boxes for me. But the colors in this happy corner blew my mind..

^ The weather was blessedly cool. Mid 70s. Any warmer and my chilly PNW bones might have melted.

^ When it comes to vacation hamburgers, I say go big or go home. Eventually, I did both.

^ Waiting for our ride to the airport gave me a moment of alone time with the bougainvillea. 

^ Goodbye, Palm Springs! See you in 2071. :)

A Change Of Heart

 

^ One of the medics and the nurse. My new friend is already inside the truck. I hope she is warm.

It's Valentine's Day.

I'm driving home from a few early errands and my mind excitedly turns over the trimmings of the day.

Hand-drawn cards.

Foil-wrapped chocolates.

Heart-shaped meatloaf.

I've laid careful plans and I'm prepared to celebrate in fine style. I'm a big believer that Valentine's Day is all about expressing love to friends and family, and my heart buzzes with a happy excitement for the festivities to come. 

As I turn from the highway onto a residential street, I see several cars ahead of me swerving to avoid something in the road.  My reverie shatters.

What's this? It's a woman.

An older woman. Well, older than me.

In a second, I assess the situation. She's clearly been walking down the sidewalk along the highway, pulling a nylon covered shopping cart but here, where the sidewalk gives way to a dirt path along the residential road, several sections of rough and tumble pavement make for some serious tripping hazards, and this poor woman has apparently taken a header.

She's literally lying in the street, struggling to get up.

Three or four cars ahead of me zip past her, swerving around her, pausing only so slightly in their rush to get to wherever they're going. 

I'm horrified.

By reflex, I carefully inch around this poor woman and park my car on the shoulder nearby. I rush over to her - she's still struggling to stand up or even squirm her way off the road. My first objective is to help her to safety.

I say hello.

I ask her if she'd like me to help her up.

I don't really wait for an answer. 

Drawing on the lessons I learned when helping my mother stand up, during her hard times, I step into  position, clasp her hands, and gently pull up.

Our first attempt fails and she sits back down. I realize she is more dazed that I first thought.

"Let's try again," I encourage.

And this time, as I pull and she struggles to stand, a miracle happens.

From nowhere, a younger woman wearing a rainbow-striped puffer vest and a beanie materializes out of the ether, and positions herself behind the woman, lifting her as I pull. In a heartbeat, the woman is standing.

"I'm a nurse," our new friend informs me. I cannot possibly be more delighted.

We talk, the three of us. The fallen woman is terribly confused. She has a strong eastern European accent, a small scrape on her chin, and absolutely no idea where she is or what has happened. 

Bless her heart.

The nurse speaks aside to me. "She's concussed. I'm calling 911. Can you hold her steady?" 

Yes. I can do that.

So we stand in the cutting wind, under steely skies. I listen to the nurse talk in medical acronyms and abbreviations to the medic dispatcher. I see her stealthily take the woman's pulse, peer at her pupils, and ask the woman over and over, "Did you hit your head?"

In the meantime, I hold onto the woman for dear life as she trembles, twitches, shakes like a leaf. She looks up and down the street, twisting and turning in my grasp to look around behind her, wondering over and over again, "But how did I get here?' I brush some stray bits of bark and mud from her white fleece vest and lilac ear band. I try to imagine what I could possibly say to comfort her, and do my best to stumble through.

The medics pull up. More angels. They're smiling and kind and endlessly reassuring. The poor woman is still confused, and now begins to apologize for her accent. We ascertain that Polish is her first language, and as the medics promise to call for a translator right away, I keep holding her arm and whispering encouragements to her: "Don't worry. We can understand you. Your English is just fine."

Now the medics are ready to move her to their truck for a full assessment. She's scared, especially when their gurney makes an appearance and they ask her to sit down. "No," she says. "Don't take me to the hospital." But these folks are prepared for her resistance and promise that right now, all they're going to do is take her to the truck so she can sit inside where it's warmer.

She sits down..

They belt her in and move her off. The nurse walks with them, still dispensing information and swapping medical data.

There's nothing more for me to do.

So I get in my car and drive home.

Along the way, I gradually recall my Valentine's Day plans. My pretty red hearts and chocolate candy don't seem quite so important now. Yes, I still believe in Valentine's Day as an opportunity to shower my nearest and dearest with tokens of my love. But maybe it's something much bigger than that.

Maybe this holiday is well celebrated by standing on the side of the road, shivering in the wind, holding up a confused, concussed woman and wondering what she will remember of this adventure with me. 

Probably nothing.

But I will remember her forever. 

Happy Valentine's Day.