A Road Trip to Napa from San Francisco by Way of Mexico

         I no longer felt in danger and was back at work the afternoon I picked up Jonathan to take him to Oakland, where my mother worked as a probation officer.  We were to meet her in the parking lot and leave the car, and she would drive us all to Napa to see David and his doctor, who had asked to speak with us.  But delayed by traffic, we got there late, and Mother was no longer waiting.  I assumed she had gone on to Napa by herself, so I told Jonathan I'd take him their in our car.
        Easier said than done.

       I got on the right road, but it didn't even occur to me that I needed to go in the right direction, and it started to rain.  Jonathan was in his car seat in the back seat, and I sang with him from time to time and kept him from seeing that I was crying between the snatches of songs.  
When I started to see signs for LA, the importance of going in the right direction came to mind, and I turned around.  Under any circumstances, I was a poor driver.  After years of going on dates the had the guy do all the driving, I'd lived in countries where I didn't have or need a car.  I hadn't learned to drive until I was thirty-three years old--after what I told people was the hardening of the brain.  Now, trying to get to Napa, I was distraught as well as dealing with that not-quite-imprinted (with good maps or the ability to follow directions) brain. 
        The rain increased after dark, and when I got within, say, fifteen miles of Napa, I parked the car in one more cafe or gas station and went in to ask.

       A driver who heard me, gave me directions and told me to follow him.
So in the darkness, in the rain, I followed him several miles until we got to the gate in front of Napa, and he waved goodbye.

      I don't know who he was but I will never forget him.
       I drove to the parking lot in front of the Administration Building but didn't see Mom's car.  Then after getting Jonathan out of his car seat, I got directions to the office of the doctor, who welcomed me.

        "My mother hasn't arrived yet?" I asked.
       "No," the doctor said.  "She called and said she had to cancel because you couldn't make it today."
 The doctor told me that we really couldn't talk because there were some things that Jonathan shouldn't hear.


 It didn't take me three hours to get back home.  But that's probably because I went in the direction of San Francisco instead of Oregon.