Today’s guest post comes from Shawn Smucker of shawnsmucker.com. Shawn and his family recently concluded an adventure of a lifetime in which they traveled the U.S. on a big blue bus, meeting people (including me, twice!), seeing our beautiful country, talking shop with fellow writers, and learning about life all along the way. It’s my honor to share this funny, sweet, personal piece of Shawn’s adventure with you here! –Tamára
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The woman who still feels like a girl sometimes tires of digging through the bottom of the bus for the kids’ shoes, or wondering if the next Laundromat will have a change machine. The man who still feels like a boy is weary of emptying the waste tank and worrying about getting the bus stuck. The third month of a four-month trip is the 21st mile of a marathon.
The woman looks for a movie for the kids while the man makes popcorn. She bends over and sweeps Legos out of the way, then opens the small drawer under the couch. The man pinches her butt. She laughs and looks over her shoulder.
“What movie are you picking, mom?” one of the four kids shouts.
They have been in very close quarters for over ninety days. Moments of intimacy for the parents are few and far between. The man gives the woman a signal.
Meet me in the back in two minutes.
They walk back the long bus hall, closing the two doors. They are giddy, like high schoolers trying to find a place to park late at night. Unfortunately the bedroom door has a gaping hole in the bottom where a large vent used to be, so the man blocks it with an oversized plastic storage container. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
She moves the dirty clothes on to the floor and he jumps into bed. More Legos greet him, like tiny sea urchins. They sigh and pull back the sheets and pick out the Legos and doll clothes and Matchbox cars.
When the bed is clear, they lay down. He smiles. She smiles. He kisses her. Then they hear the tiniest of voices from the other side of the storage bin blocking the door. He looks over his shoulder and a small head peaks up through the narrow space.
“Guysh, what are you doing?” It is their four-year old. She has long blond hair and blue eyes and her s’s come out like sh’s (think Sid from Ice Age). She wants a drink. The man shakes his head in disbelief. He looks at the woman.
Is the universe conspiring against us?
“How do you even fit through there?” he asks, walking toward the door.
“Are you guysh naked in there?” she asks them.
He tries not to laugh. She keeps asking questions.
“Did you lock the door sho that no one would shee you when you’re naked?” she asks again.
“I wish,” he says, leaning down and pushing her head gently back through the vent. “Now go ask your brother for a drink. And don’t come back in here until the door is open. Understand?”
“Of coursh.”
He goes back to the bed and lays down beside the woman. And suddenly the woman and man are boy and girl again. They look at each other – she giggles and he laughs. They hold hands and stare at the ceiling. She suddenly remembers, in the time it takes a lightning bug to flash on and off, that this is the greatest adventure of their life together. He recalls the first time they held hands in that move theatre in Camp Hill, Pennsylvania. He remembers how he hadn’t wanted to be anywhere but there.
They hear the voices of their children in the front of the bus: how’d it happen so fast? How could those two people holding hands fifteen years before be in any way connected to these very different but same people, holding hands in Yellowstone while their four children argue over popcorn rights in the front of the bus?
Outside, a few miles away, herds of bison and elk wander through Haydn Valley. A bear swims through icy Yellowstone River, her cub following desperately behind. Downstream, water crashes through the gorge, wearing away another layer of time.
But in the big blue bus, for just a moment, time has stopped.
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Shawn recently finished a four-month trip around the United States with his wife and four children (8 years of age and under) and is now back home in Paradise, Pennsylvania. His book My Amish Roots explores the roles of family, death, life, tradition, and legacy against the backdrop of his Amish ancestry. He has also recently written an E-book, Building a Life Out of Words, which tells the story of how his failed business became an opportunity for him and his family to live the life they had always wanted to live.
He blogs daily at shawnsmucker.com about writing, the strange things his children say, and postmodern Christianity. You can connect with him on Facebook and Twitter.
Oh. My.
I just absolutely love this. So stinking beautiful. Thanks for the glimpse.
Thanks, Alise. These moments of serenity are few and far between, aren’t they?
Thanks for sharing how we can find stability even in the midst of the most unusual circumstances.
Leave it to you, Ed, to pull the bigger picture up out of the rubble. Good call.
So lovely, Shawn.
As a fellow RV owner/traveler, I empathize completely…you know with the Legos everywhere and all
I didn’t realize you were an RVer, Sarah. I’d love to hear more about your experiences (if you ever have a guest post on the topic bursting forth, feel free to send it over – just know that we don’t talk about, um, ‘Legos’ all that often).
I don’t write much about “Legos” either, but since my best writing does come after said RV trips(heading out on the road next week), I think I can come with something good.
I’d be honored to post anything you write. Safe travels!
Loved this!! So funny and beautiful!
Thanks, Amber!
Hi Shawn. Wow! Can you tell a tale. Just lovely. I can hardly imagine taking that kind of adventure with my husband. We’d kill each other. Or something. Plus our 13 year old would not think naked parents is so cool.
But.
You make me want to go find that boy and that girl again. Thanks for sharing.
Oh, I think you’d be okay, Renee. Probably. Although there were times when Maile and I wanted to jump off of the bus while it was moving. It is, after all, always the other person’s fault when you get lost.
So many times I have found a renewed joy and happiness in my marriage when I can remember who we were when we first met. I think we change so much throughout the years, and fortunately Maile and I have been able to change in ways that have drawn us closer together, but sometimes you need those glimpses into the past to remind you.
Shawn, what a sweet story. Thanks for telling it.
Thanks, Larry.
That was icky
But very well written!
Ha! Says the man with the mustache.
Shawn, even though I live in a house, and not blue bus, I can feel your pain. Great post.
I’m sure you do, Rob. Locked doors don’t keep little hands from knocking
There are so many words with which I could express my delight at having you guest post here, my friend, and on such a fantastic topic, but I’ll go the Shawn Smucker route and just leave enough hint to keep it classy.
Thanks to you, Tamara, for making your blog available. I was going to try to be more risque, but then I remembered an excellent bit of advice from a speaker at Killer Tribes.
This is so sweet, Shawn. And such an unexpected way to tackle the question on everyone’s mind.
Thanks, Leigh. When I started writing it, I wasn’t sure where it would lead. But I think I’m happy with how it turned out.
Oh, let’s hear it for locked doors, PLEASE. With no gaping air vent holes, either. That door lock saved my sanity, maybe even my marriage, a whole lotta times when our kids were elementary school aged. We took the phone off the hook, too. Only our adult kids told us later they were onto us and sometimes listened in. Oy vey. :>)
I’m beginning to wonder about our older two children, and what they think about mom and dad’s constant need to talk behind closed doors
This is a really, really great story, Shawn – beautifully written – funny and poignant at the same time (that’s the best kind of writing!).
{and thanks for hosting Shawn here, Tamara!}
Thanks, Michelle. That means a lot coming from you. Good luck with your upcoming pitch!
Shawn, great stuff, as always. It’s awesome how you and Maile have managed to keep the spark alive, through time and many obstacles. It’s funny how adversity can either break relationships or forge them together in the fire. Thank God for wives who stand by us with unconditional love!
Thanks, Kevin. Keeping that spark alive takes a lot of work, and I’ll be the first to admit that often times I get lazy. But Maile is very gracious
OH, Shawn – this is BEAUTIFUL. I loved it, every word of it. We have so been there, will be there again.
Thank you, Sarah. It was a fun post to write, and a fun time to think back on.
This is freaking hilarious…good pick up right here!
Thanks for reading.
I keep wanting to get my wife to go camping in an RV with me. I don’t think this post will sway her, but I’ll give it a shot. Great post Shawn.
Keep working on it, Jim. Continually embarking on new adventures is one of the best ways to keep a relationship fresh and exciting.
Wow, that sounds really cheesy.
Shawn, that was indeed a beautiful glimpse into what I think of building margins into marriage, you know? Taking the time, making the time, to creatively express that, yes, you matter to me. Even in the midst.
At my house, the bifold doors to the master bedroom are defective, and have been popped open a time or two. I had to put a sliding bolt on for “lego” time.
that’s beautiful man. I have many similar memories, it seems like I blinked and my daughter was 12. I looked in through a screened door the other day and wondered who the tall woman was standing at her grandmothers table…sigh, it was my girl…my beautiful, tall, smart, 12 year old baby
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classic!
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