On the tour, we had the opportunity to see the turtle patients. Some had the FP tumors. Some were recovering from surgery. One was paralyzed, another lost a flipper after getting entangled. We saw them swimming in their tanks. The large one connects to the ocean and fish enter and leave at will. We couldn’t touch the turtles, but we were able to feed them a snack of romaine lettuce.

But G3 wouldn’t take no from me. “You’re breaking the promise you made me when I was little,” he said. “And what promises is that?” I asked. “That you would always play with me if I had no one else.”

We started this road trip with G3 driving and today, we are taking him to his first college visit.

Our destination is St. Augustine, a city I have wanted to visit for a very long time considering it is the oldest city in America. Jamestown gets too much credit because it was settled by the British and became one of the original thirteen colonies but St. Augustine was settled first. It’s just that the Spanish got their first and held it in their possession for nearly two hundred years before the British—and then the Americans—snatched it from them.

I hate boats! I hate being on boats. Yet, I continuously find myself voluntarily on them. If someone is going to be gripping the rail, leaning over the side, and throwing up, you can bet it will be me.

Going down the rapids, I got smacked in the face so many times that I got brain freeze. On the raft, the look on G3’s face was one of pure joy.

The glacier was beautiful. I know, in every Alaskan post I have gone on about the stunning views, but I am not exaggerating. Seeing the glacier up close was amazing. The glacier looks like water frozen in motion. Parts of it look like waves.

I frequently wrote in mirror images. I didn’t do it to be defiant. In fact, I have no memory of it being a conscious act at all. It’s simply the way my brain works. I set the words down on paper as instructed, but when my dad checked my homework at night it often made him apoplectic.

The publishing world is not kind or accommodating to people like me, people on the spectrum who struggle to navigate the neurotypical world and form meaningful connections with others.

We were on the road for less than five minutes when one of the scouts got a flat tire.

What can I say, he’s my kid. The lure to swim was simply too great.

For four years, G3 has talked about his Boy Scout trip to Block Island. It was his first Boy Scout camping trip and also his favorite.

My fear was that no one would show up. Kati promised me that wouldn’t happen. That people would want to be there to support me, and she was absolutely right.

Ugh! We are home. We put more than 10,000 miles on the car.

He has been to houses lived in by 40 presidents—and for some presidents he’s been to two or three houses—which means he only has five more..

In Nashville, we went out to dinner with my brother and then spent some time with him and his cat and dog. Samson, his kitten, is an adorabl

We are camping at Willow Beach Campground, which is on the banks of the Arkansas River. It’s about an hour northeast of Hot Springs.

From Waco, we drove to Dallas to attend the Mesquite Championship Rodeo. A rodeo is something I’ve always wanted to see.

San Antonio is about an hour south of LBJ’s house. I could not in good conscience be that close to the Alamo and not bring G3.

LBJ loved the Texas hill country. It’s where he was born and raised. As a child he loved swimming in the Pedernales River.