Ox Yoke

 Last weekend when I was in Cedar Rapids, I decided to make a pilgrimage on my way home. I went West on I-80 instead of staying South on 218. I drove an extra 25 miles to visit the McDonald's we used to drop Adam off at to meet his dad or grandparents. 

All the way to Cedar Rapids the day before, I tossed memories around of driving Adam back and forth on this same route. The last time was in 2013. He had begun driving himself to Nebraska some years before, but this year he had taken our manual transmission Corolla, and the transmission went out just East of Des Moines. He had gotten the car towed and a hotel room for the night, and I drove up to get him the next day. I was on summer break from my school position. He was a little shook up from handling this adult problem, and no, I don't remember much about the ride home. I hope it was pleasant and that we had some nice mother-son time together. I'm thinking that was the time Eli, Cal, and I drove Adam back to Springfield, went to the White Oaks Mall, and walked down an embankment to eat lunch at Chipotle, my first time eating there. It took about a week for the mechanic at the Schoolhouse Garage (I'll never forget it) to fix the car, so Pat and I drove back the next weekend and picked it up. 

I digress.

When I got to the McDonald's at the Williamsburg exit, I remembered the grim feeling of sending him off to a life I wasn't part of, if only for a weekend or a week at a time. I broke down pulling into the parking lot, and walked in tear-streaked. I looked around the dining room for the memory of waiting with my little guy. It was unusually un-busy that day, while I remember it being an absolute zoo whenever we would go there. I used the restroom and left. 

Next I drove back East on 80 and pulled into the Amana Colonies exit, even though no restaurants were listed on the highway sign. Alas, the old Ox Yoke restaurant with it's fake Tudor styling, was closed, run-down, depressingly dilapidated. The Ox Yoke was the first meeting place where would we sit down and have a cup of terrible coffee and maybe something to eat: pie or a Reuben sandwich. Try to find something cheap to buy the kids from the tacky gift shop to shut them up. I snapped a few photos as I stared at old building. Guess I would not have my snack I was looking forward to. 

It felt good and right to take this journey honoring my first born. Was I sad? Yes. Was it worth it? Yes, the least I could do to bring Adam closer and let him know I am still thinking of him and remembering the gift that he was. 

P.S. After I went back to sleep after writing the above, I dreamed Adam came home. In the flesh. So real. He had a plausible explanation for why he disappeared, but didn't explain how he faked his death. I was so excited for his brothers and cousin to be surprised, but they kind of acted like he was never gone. He said he was clear now, had his "shit together" and was getting a good job. He was heavier and sweeter and it was the best feeling. It felt like, "Thank god you're finally here."