Beech Tree News Network

Years ago—twenty, to be exact—our family set off for Key Largo, Florida.  Located on Key Largo, was an operation called Dolphins Plus.  It was an organization that allowed handicapped children and young adults an opportunity to interact with wild dolphins.  The Dolphins Plus grounds were equipped with gates between standing pools of water and the open ocean.  The dolphins could come and go as they pleased.  The programs offered to the handicapped guests were free.  The costs were covered by an additional program in which paying guests would have an opportunity to swim with the dolphins, as well.  Our mission was to give our young daughter, Nikki, the chance to do just that.  This is not a story about what happened at Dolphins Plus.  This is a story about what happened along the way.
    There are three things you need to know: one, I was driving; two, we had to go through Miami; three, Nikki had a fear of flying.  Nikki’s fear of flying had always baffled me, because the child wasn’t afraid of anything.  Her fear worried me a bit.  I knew she was going to have one of those lives in which getting on an airplane would be a must.  She was my adventurer, my explorer, my go-to-the-ends-of-the-earth daughter—which she actually did in 2009.
    My daughter’s fear of flying, however, was the last thing on my mind as I was zooming down the interstate in four lanes of traffic, trying to figure out which lane I needed to be in for my exit, which I missed, which Garey pointed out I missed.
    “I’ll get off at the next exit, and turn around,” I told him, which is what I did.  The next exit happened to be the Miami airport exit, and I was squeezed into the lane that circled the airport.  Garey didn’t say a word, but I could tell he wasn’t happy.  His right index finger poking a hole through the map to point out my exit number tipped me off.
    After I circled the airport and got back onto the interstate, I proceeded to miss my exit once again.  Garey did say something this time.  It involved me pulling over and allowing someone who knew what they were doing the opportunity to drive.  I informed him that I was not pulling over and that I would be turning around.  Once again, I got off at the next exit, and once again, I got squeezed into the lane that circled the airport. 
    Garey was livid.  “I cannot believe we’re circling the airport again!” he said, “How is it possible to miss the same exit twice!”
    “Oh, it’s possible,” I said, “Do you want to make it three times?  We can miss it again if that’s what you want.”
    Before Garey could come back with a snarky remark, Nikki said, “I see now.”
    Garey and I, who had both forgotten we even had two kids in the back seat, turned to look at her.  She was looking out her window, watching planes come in for landings. 
    “I didn’t know how they could get down from the sky without falling,” she said.
    I got back onto the interstate and did not miss my exit the third time, although, I was tempted to just for spite.
    I learned something important that day.  Sometimes, life isn’t about the two idiots arguing in the front seat.  Sometimes, life is about the little girl in the back seat, confronting her fears and figuring out how to work through them in order to have the life she was meant to have.