Saturday, August 31, 2013
The high of passing my road test still lingers, but this morning feels different. The Coach is already up and heading out—without me. Our usual Saturday routine of hitting the gym together and grocery shopping is disrupted by his football meetings. I feel a pang of abandonment as I slowly prepare to go to the gym alone.
As he hums to himself, I mention that I’ll be doing the grocery shopping solo today. Without missing a beat, he responds, “Yes. Isn’t God good? Have a great day, babe. See you later.” A quick kiss, and he’s gone. Moments later, the doorbell rings. He hands me the GPS and tells me to update it and put it in my truck before leaving again.
I stand in the entranceway, staring at the device in my hand. He really did just leave me. I hook it up to the computer, watching the updates download almost robotically. An hour passes, and my TomTom is still not finished. I’ve already missed Zumba, but the grocery shopping still needs to be done.
With no more excuses, I grab my list and head out. As I settle into Favor, my truck, I adjust the seat and mirrors—small reminders that the Coach was the last one behind the wheel. The drive to the grocery store is uneventful, but shopping alone feels like a brand-new experience. Without our usual strategic divide-and-conquer method, I take my time, moving through the aisles with a newfound sense of independence.
Monday, September 1, 2013 – Labor Day
The Coach worked his side job last night, and it’s already noon with no word from him. The sun is shining, and I refuse to be stuck inside. I decide to take Favor for a drive around the neighborhood to get more comfortable. Last night, I programmed my GPS with my relatives’ address, but I hesitate. A 30-minute drive alone feels daunting.
Gathering my courage, I grab my purse, a bottle of water, and my keys. As I start the truck, my GPS begins giving directions—I must have forgotten to cancel my request. On impulse, I decide to follow it and see where it leads.
Five minutes in, I find myself on my “favorite” country road—narrow lanes, bayous on either side, and a faded center median. Today, another truck follows closely behind me. From a distance, it resembles my husband’s. Did he notice I was gone and decide to follow me? I refuse to check my phone as I navigate the road.
The GPS reroutes me to a highway, and I cautiously merge, my hands gripping the wheel. Soon, I recognize a familiar street, but then the GPS directs me down an unknown road. Trusting the system, I turn. The road is even less developed than my usual route, but at least there are no bayous this time.
Just when I start to feel uneasy, I spot another familiar street. Following the directions, I turn—too early. “As soon as you get a chance, make a U-turn and then turn right,” the GPS instructs. Fantastic. Now I have to maneuver a U-turn in heavy traffic.
Finally, I see my destination—my Aunt and Uncle-in-law’s house. I park, breathe, and ring the doorbell. Their daughter answers, and I feel instant relief. After a drink of water and some conversation, my phone rings. It’s the Coach. “Babe, I’m almost home. I’m tired, sick, and hungry.” I tell him where I am, and he reassures me that I don’t need to rush—just bring him food.
As I hang up, the doorbell rings again. My cousin’s brothers arrive, expecting a family BBQ. We all share a laugh at the unexpected change of plans.
This drive, this day—it’s a small but significant step in my journey toward independence. I may have relied on the GPS, but ultimately, I trusted myself. And that’s what matters most.
Conclusion:
Learning to navigate life’s roads—both literal and metaphorical—is a process. Sometimes, we have a guide; other times, we’re left to figure things out on our own. Either way, every journey builds confidence, resilience, and a sense of self-reliance. Today was just another step forward in finding my independence behind the wheel.
© 2025, Lela Fagan. All rights reserved.
