The youngest of our three children, daughter Katherine, gets married in less than two weeks. As I visualize her at 24, it takes only a second for memories of Toddler Katherine to arise with wild, staticy hair, dancing in circles and clapping those tiny hands to her brother, Jason's, blaring boom box music. Tears creep to the surface as the haunting violin refrain from "Fiddler on the Roof's" Sunrise, Sunset gets louder in my mind, as if someone were gradually turning up the volume, determined to make this Mother-of-the-Bride sob into her freshly prepared Tomato-Basil Soup.
Stop! Put down the fiddle. No need for sobbing. Too much to celebrate.
And to begin the celebration, I invited Katherine and older daughter, Elizabeth, to join me for a Mother/Daughter outing last weekend. Twenty-four hours alone with my two daughters hasn't happened since. . . Who can remember that far back? We decided on Hot Springs, an hour's drive away, or 45 minutes, if Elizabeth is driving. I researched accommodations, Elizabeth googled spas, and Katherine emerged from her pile of Thank You notes long enough to say, "Sure, whatever, I trust you guys."
Hot Springs is known for, well, it's hot springs. Bathhouses line one side of Central Avenue, where bathers can relax in soothingly warm to 104-degree, "get-me-out-of-here!" waters. Native Americans called the area the Valley of the Vapors, and tribes such as the Caddo, Quapaw and Choctaw shared the natural baths in a spirit of peace. Seeking peace, a healthy lunch, a few spa treatments and an overall good time, we registered at The Quapaw, donned our fashionable white robes, ready for the afternoon.
Signing a pact that none of our bathing suit pictures would ever be publicly aired, you'll have to take our collective word for it that the thermal baths were as visually stunning and bodily calming as if they were located in the heart of Istanbul. A picture of the ceiling is all we're prepared to show. . .
The evening was predictable --- checking into the 1890 Williams House Inn, taking a driving tour around town, eating out, watching "The American President" for the 15th time, then heading to bed --- except for the unpredictable parts, the ones that caused all the laughter!
"Mom, you backed into a tree!" Katherine shouted.
(Turned out to just be a retaining wall. No observable damage.)
*******
"Mom, you're in the wrong lane." Katherine shouted.
"Mom, you're not in any lane at all. " Elizabeth shouted.
(Did they really need to shout?)
*******
They appeared, dashed into the car, Katherine carrying a paper-sack wrapped bottle of wine. Three women on the lookout for a liquor store, in a questionable part of town, lighted only by an occasional street lamp.
"There, there's one. It's a drive-though," said Elizabeth. "Turn the car around, Mom, park by the front door."
"Looks safe enough. We'll go inside. It'll be faster. You stay in the car," Katherine instructed, with the authority of Buzz Lightyear planning an attack on the dreaded Zurg.
"Right, I'll keep the car running in case you need to make a quick escape," I replied, with my hands gripping the steering wheel.
They scurried in; I scanned the parking lot. Minutes passed. More minutes passed.
"Anyone need hand sanitizer?" Elizabeth asked.
*******
"That window looks strange, the one right by our entrance." Elizabeth whispered as we drove up to the bed and breakfast after dinner. "Something's moving. Maybe the place is haunted."
"It's not a window, just a light on the wall. It's flickering, see?" Katherine explained, pointing to the exact location through the windshield.
"No, I'm sure it's a window. This is really frea.. .ky," Elizabeth's voice sounded in a high-pitched, ghost-story kind of way.
Suddenly a car rounded the corner, flashing its lights on the side of the building, revealing. . .
a round white head, with a black iron ring tightened around it's neck like a prisoner. We all SCREAMED!!!
Upon closer examination, a light.
What fun.
What amazing young women!
What a lucky mother. J
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