The adventure started and ended with a detour, which is kind of crazy for a one-day road trip to Sedona. It’s an easy drive, one we’ve done a million times (or close to that) from Phoenix.
So it was kind of silly that me and my mom ended up biffing a clutch freeway entrance we needed to get us north. A sign blaring about a “wrong way driver ahead” kind of distracted us, as it should, and we were off on our first unofficial detour of the day.
If we had a crystal ball, we’d know that the day would hold a couple more. But there’s no fun in actually knowing what’s going to happen, right? Adventure is about the journey.
“Let’s do a hippie dippy adventure for your birthday”
That was me, a few days earlier, asking my mom to celebrate her birthday early since we’ll be road-tripping with the kids on her actual birthday.
“Let’s do a Sedona-psychic-card reading thing”
Me again, thinking my crystal-wearing mom would love a fun day like that. I had never done something like that, and Sedona – with its energy vortexes and salt rooms and abundance of psychics – was the perfect spot for it.
Also, it was cooler than Phoenix. So.
“I booked us brunch”
That was her, not letting on that the brunch she booked would be at one of the prettiest spots in Sedona, where a single row of tables line Oak Creek so everyone has a creekside experience. L’auberge is this quiet showstopper, tucked under the bustling strip of tourist shops, beneath a canopy of trees with a front row seat to the creek.
I waded in, because I couldn’t resist. And we had a few minutes before our table would be ready. The icy water was like a mini-cryotherapy session just for my feet, waking my brain up from the road and preparing it for our post-brunch excursion to the Mystical Bazaar.
“You’re a freedom thinker. And you’re connected to the Earth.”
That’s what the psychic told me, during my first ever card reading, which was happening inside a small, private room at the back of a store filled with crystals and rocks. My mom, I thought, was in another room, getting her reading – since this was her adventure.
When I came out, feeling confirmed in all kinds of ways, my mom was reading a green folder.
“She had a block.”
That’s what she told me about her psychic, as she read through the analysis of her aura, which the ladies gave her as a consolation.
“These things happen. I get it.”
My mom, unfazed by the spiritual detour. I was fazed, though. I didn’t know that, like, happened. Lucky for my mom, though, Zoltar never gets a block. And, after inserting a dollar outside a shop that felt like some strange guy’s garage, he gave her an ambiguous reading that dove a couple layers deeper than a fortune cookie but stopped short of a crystal-shop reading.
So, mini win. We planned a third detour, to a fancy shoe store on the way home, and I came away with the SHOES OF MY LIFE, which I didn’t expect. And a fourth detour took us through the avenues as we rode back into Phoenix and tried to miss a scheduled detour on the highway we were using.
It all worked out. That’s the thing. Especially the shoes, but even the highway/psychic detours. Because I think we might remember that her psychic got a block better than if she had been able to do a reading.
Detours just make better stories.