A Story of Wanderlust, Gambling and Adulthood Part 4

By CJ

Just as he predicted, we ran out of money in Flagstaff. Our food supply had dwindled to almost nothing and we still had a thousand miles to go. Gas prices back then ranged around a dollar twenty-five, a gallon of milk was a dollar more, and a dozen eggs were eighty-five cents. There was no one to call and ask for help, we were out of money and a long way from where we could rest. At my insistence, our first stop in Flagstaff was at a church where the pastor filled our tank with gas, slipped some cash to my husband and supplied us with a bag of groceries. My husband made intricate notes of the value of these items and promised to repay the church for its generosity.

At the border of Arizona and New Mexico the tarp was removed from the little trailer that we pulled behind us and many of our belongings were sold at a pawnshop, including a new television set that we had only purchased a few months before. We sold it for less than a third of what wed paid for it. My husband waffled about the price ...Would you rather watch TV, or go home? I asked my brow furrowed. The television, a microwave and several other items were left behind and the proceeds helped us make our way to Las Cruces where the final, critical sale was made at a pawnshop; I left New Mexico behind with a pale white band around my finger where my wedding rings had been.

We pulled into Cedar Park at midmorning on the following Sunday and collapsed on my mother in laws couch; not a penny to our names, exhausted, and immensely relieved. Roughly a month later, a package arrived in the mail with my name on it. I sat down, and opened it carefully, and cried when I saw my wedding rings inside. My husband had not only repaid the church, but had sent for my rings and now they were back where they belonged ... on my finger. In time we replaced the other items that had been sold to finance our trip back to Texas, and we moved to Florida where we settled in for good. Three children and many more televisions and microwaves later, we can look back on that fateful attempt at relocation and laugh. Even at our ages we both continue to battle bouts of wanderlust, and wonder what life would be like now if we had stayed in Washington.

We didn’t learn that long-ago summer that gambling was bad, or that it should never be done. We learned that it should never be done when so much is at stake, and we consider our adventure northward as just one of the stepping-stones to learning to be responsible adults. My husband takes the occasional casino gambling trip when he has the money, and I’m still a sucker for bright lights and bustle, but have contented myself with using an overabundance of lights on the Christmas tree every year. I sit and gaze at them with wide-eyed wonder as they flash on and off in brilliant reds, greens and blues, and think about the experiences I have had. I can still see, if I squint my eyes just right, the mountains of Washington and feel the cold, sparkling waters of Emerald Bay, and I relive the experience of being broke and stranded hundreds of miles away from home, and frankly I wouldn’t trade a second of this memory for all the tea in China.