I think my son, Cowboy, applies dog-year math to how long it’s been since he’s traveled. It had been four months since our last trip, a virtual eternity for Cowboy. Since Flash’s birthday was approaching, I’d made plans for us to celebrate away from home. Cowboy’s transition into the adult world has been as much of a transition for me; those apron strings are snapping more frequently than the elastic in my underwear during the holiday season. The three of us were ready for a change of location, and it’s always easier to work on transitions when we’re on a trip. Although I always leave a part of my heart in the Texas Hill Country, we needed to see a part of Texas we’d never visited. It was time to try something new in small town, USA.
“I’d like to do some hiking and be outdoors more on this trip,” Flash announced.
So I presented The Plan I’d been cooking up.
“We could stop in Waco for lunch, go through Glen Rose to take a peek, then make Granbury our home base at the Hilton on Granbury Lake. Waco has some wooly mammoth remains to see, and we could go back to Chip and Joanna’s Magnolia Market since it was closed last time we were there. Glen Rose has Dinosaur Valley State Park where we can hike and see dino tracks, and for years we’ve talked about visiting Granbury.”
I try to answer all the unasked questions in one breath. Thankfully, Flash trusts me as our travel agent. Cowboy was onboard as soon as I said “Hilton with an indoor pool and hot tub.” He’ll go anywhere that meets that criteria.
Rather than using a spontaneous approach to sightseeing, deciding each morning what to put on our agenda, I’d discovered living in the midst of Covid means checking every destination ahead of time. Many public places and tourist attractions have limited capacity requirements, as well as required reservations. Reserving our spots would be my task during our drive.
By 9 a.m., the van was loaded, and we left for Waco. Traveling on a Friday rather than a Saturday, I thought it would be easier to see all Waco had to offer. In the past, we’d passed through or stopped for a quick tour of the Dr. Pepper Museum. Lunch at Chip and Joanna’s restaurant would be a nice change of pace. But the restaurant didn’t have openings for another 11 days, and people were crawling all over Waco. Although I’ve never been aversive to crowds, social distancing and lowered capacities for businesses has spoiled me; I’ve grown accustomed to sparsely populated venues and no waiting lines. As we circled the block in search of food, Flash spotted The Backyard Bar Stage & Grill. The weather was a balmy 68 degrees as we sat outside enjoying country music videos and good burgers.
It was a short drive to Glen Rose, and I fell in love with the landscape. Our friend Rachel, who lived in the Waco area for years, had told me the terrain became hillier north of Waco. I’d had no idea how hilly; it was beautiful.
Thirty minutes later, we arrived in historic downtown Granbury, one of the nicest town squares I’ve seen. I gasped as we drove past the beautiful Granbury Live Theater, a building reminiscent of a 1940s movie theater. But we dared not stop; after most of the day in the car, Cowboy had a date with a swimming pool. Our room at the Hilton allowed a view of the sun setting on the lake, and the boardwalk behind the hotel was frequented by couples walking hand-in-hand.
We quickly unloaded our luggage, and within minutes were in the Warmest Indoor Pool in the History of Lindquist Travels. It was a perfect remedy to car lag, and the best precursor to dinner. Then we drove to the nearest steak house. Within an hour after eating, Cowboy was happily slumbering in his bed, and Flash and I read to ourselves until falling asleep.
On the drive up, I’d called Dinosaur Valley State Park to see what the predicted crowds were. Although Cowboy does well in crowds, he’s had some increased anxiety lately, even when anticipating fun activities. The man on the phone explained, “We have 19 spots still open for Saturday, but 200 for Sunday. If I were you, I’d come Sunday.” I took his advice, and made on-line reservations for two days later.
After a made-to-order breakfast at the Hilton on Saturday, we drove to the Creation Evidence Museum in Glen Rose. It was thrilling to see artifacts affirming God as the Creator and Designer of our world and its inhabitants. Cowboy enjoyed seeing physical proof of dinosaurs walking the earth. Most impressive was the cast of a dinosaur’s footprint perpendicular to a human footprint – confirming that man did, indeed, dwell with dinosaurs at one time; for me, that was a goosebump moment. We watched a video by the founder of the museum, which helped us understand the artifacts we saw. And upstairs was a small replica of Noah’s ark, complete with dinosaurs included inside the vessel.
For lunch, we visited the Storiebook Café, a few minutes from the museum. It was my dream business. Bookshelves lined wall after wall, and all the hundreds of books were for sale. The room with children’s books had décor of retro toys, and the main room had a Christmas tree built from books. I bought a copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith, a classic I’ve heard of but never read. I plan to start it on Christmas eve.
We headed back to Granbury to shop, and to see what makes the town special. I couldn’t wait to see the Granbury Live up close; a kind employee showed us the place. Authentic, red-cushioned cinema chairs from the 40s graced the small, intimate theater, beckoning us to return for a show on our next trip. Of course, Cowboy wants to go back because the pretty girls at the box office gave him free candy. After perusing the square, we had our daily swim, and were back at in town for dinner by 7:30. Everything seems to revolve around eating and swimming when we travel.
Christina’s American Table’s menu sounded great, and they had live music. Because it was the weekend, the wait was 45 minutes long, and the bar was marked with reserved signs. But 15 minutes later, the lovely hostess whispered in my ear, “We have a table near the musician, if that won’t be too loud.” Live music is rarely too loud for Cowboy, especially where food is involved. And the food was excellent. Cowboy had been craving mashed potatoes for several days. And what is vacation good for, if not for falling off the carb wagon? But, surprisingly, mashed potatoes aren’t always easy to find, and the restaurant was out of them that night. Instead, Cowboy had his first mashed purple sweet potatoes. Not only were they gorgeous, I’ve never seen Cowboy scrape a plate that long after finishing his meal.
“I noticed how much you liked those,” our server said as he approached our table, “so I brought you more.” Cowboy will be a patron for life now.
Dancing with Flash that night was my favorite moment on our trip; I couldn’t remember the last time we danced. It was exactly what this stressed mom needed, and it didn’t last long enough. I was walking on clouds when we left Christina’s.
As we strolled down the sidewalk, I heard a woman singing “Some Kind of Wonderful,” one of my favorite songs. I danced by the window of the wine bar where she was performing, and apparently I was performing without realizing it. She turned to see me through the window, and spoke into her microphone, “You want to come in here don’t you? Come in here.”
I looked at Flash, turned around, and walk in the bar. I danced up to the musician, and joined her in singing. I don’t know why; I didn’t stop to think about it. It just felt comfortable in a town where every person we encountered was friendly. Of all the venues in all the towns, I walked into hers. Then the moment of truth came - she put her microphone in front of me, and I kept singing. I didn’t choke or skip a beat. It was amazing. I had no fear as everyone at the bar looked on. Actually, the fact that it was a wine bar was comforting; I hoped they’d had enough wine to make me sound like Whitney Houston. Of course, I did notice that mic wasn’t in front of me long. I guess she was intimidated. Next thing I knew, my arm was around this lady’s shoulders, and I was having the time of my life.
“Is this the one?” she asked, pointing at Flash.
“Yes, he is,” I answered.
“What’s his name?”
“Flash.”
“Okay, his name is Flash,” she announced.
Poor Flash, who doesn’t like being the center of attention, was now in the spotlight. But I didn’t notice he was also filming my public singing debut.
“It’s his birthday,” I added.
And so, everyone in the place sang Happy Birthday to my Flash. It was amazing.
My new friend and I hugged, and she told me where she’d be performing the next evening, adding that she expected to see us there. And we tried to find her the next night, but I should’ve written down where she’d be. Instead, I walked out, still on clouds, assuming I knew the town. That’s the closest I’ve come to karaoke, which is on my bucket list. Assisted karaoke is a good stepping stone to the real thing.
Another night passed with no television. For the duration of our trip, there was no news. No sit coms. No movies. Just enjoying each other’s company and quiet reading at night.
Sunday came, and we headed to Dinosaur Valley State Park. No snacks. No lunch. Not enough water. Just a bag of chips from the night before that we’d bought at the Hilton snack bar. I have no idea why the Eternal Den Mother didn’t equip us for our hike; I acted like a kid and brought nothing. Thankfully, the on-site store had plenty of water, and of course dinosaur shirts, so we’d survive without any exposure to the cold or dehydration. And we had a map. We got lost twice, but not for lack of a map.
“Let’s head to the Ballroom first,” I suggested. They call that particular spot the Ballroom because there are so many dinosaur tracks, it looks like they were dancing.
I was the first to try the water. They lady at the store had said it was ankle deep; it rose to my knees. I rolled up my jeans and walked where the map indicated tracks. Large, oblong impressions filled in with rocks were in front of me.
“I found them,” I exclaimed, then saw another family looking to my left. As I made my way over to them, and Flash and Cowboy joined me, I saw a different type of footprint. Three toes, like the dinosaur cast we saw at the museum the previous day. They were throughout the limestone shelf that was underwater. I’d never seen that many dinosaur tracks in my life.
I thought back to that day when Mom and I were traveling through the San Marcos area and saw a handmade sign reading, “Dinosaur tracks” with an arrow pointing off the road. I hadn’t believed they were real, insisting that someone had made a dinosaur-foot-shaped mold and then stamped it into concrete.
“No, Kim, these are real. There are lots of places that have dinosaur tracks.”
She’d be proud that I’m such a believer now. Cowboy has never showed any doubt. He kept pointing to the tracks and signing, “Dinosaur.”
“That’s right, Cowboy. Dinosaurs lived here,” I replied.
I won’t tell all the highlights of this prehistoric trek, dear readers; you need to go see for yourselves. We hiked on, and Cowboy and I laid out in the sun on a shelf of limestone. I didn’t realize, until we crossed back over the river and I looked down on that shelf, that we’d been sunbathing on huge footprints. They were everywhere.
It was one of the best days we’ve ever had as a family. Nobody was bored. Nobody complained. Even without food, we had a blast. It went too quickly, and we’re planning to visit again, this time with a picnic lunch, plenty of water, and wearing shorts to wade through the river.
I thought Cowboy would be tuckered out. Instead, he told me he wanted to go to Dinosaur World after we left the park. Flash waited in the van, while Cowboy and I walked over half a mile looking at life-size dinosaurs. Cowboy insisted we read every plaque about each one. The statues were outside among the trees, making the display even more life-like. I pointed out the dinosaurs whose tracks we’d just seen at the state park. For two days, we’d learned so much about the world, dinosaurs, and the beautiful creation around us.
Being famished after hiking, we stopped at the Big Cup Eatery in Glen Rose, and dined on the balcony with a view of the hills. They do, indeed, have the biggest coffee cups I’ve seen in a restaurant, and I had to buy one for home. We ended our day like the others; swimming and reading until we fell asleep.
Monday, it was time to drive home, and we inadvertently took a different route back. The countryside was relaxing, and we went through West, Texas, popping into the Czech Stop and spending over an hour in Slovacek’s. Both are known for their kolaches, but our gluten-free status sent us looking for cookies we could eat, which we found in abundance.
For our last meal on the road, we visited Sodolak’s in Bryan. The food and staff were wonderful; we were happy and full, and within two hours we were unpacking our luggage.
I hadn’t been sure our adventures would interest Cowboy, but had explained this trip was for Flash’s birthday. We’ve been working on counteracting all the years during which the earth seemed to revolve around Cowboy.
“When y’all travel, is it all about Cowboy and what he wants to do?” Radar, Cowboy’s employment assistant, asked last week. Actually, he’s much more than Cowboy’s assistant in learning pre-vocational skills and job hunting; he’s helping teach Cowboy independence in all areas, as well as empathy and how to be more other-focused. I laughed. It’s as if Radar knows details of our parenting without my saying anything.
“Not anymore,” I replied. “We’ve been working on that, and we took turns deciding where to eat and what to do on our trip,” I answered.
“That’s good. Just make sure you’re doing that on a regular basis.”
Indeed. It’s a daily job backing off as a mother, while still teaching Cowboy how to be an adult.
I discovered a lot about dinosaurs and a different part of Texas on our trip, the first trip we’ve taken since Radar has been working with Cowboy. This trip was different from many of the others, and I learned a lot about young-adult Cowboy. Swimming at the hotel was a comfort to him, but not an obsession. His doing things that Flash and I were interested in, rather than our asking him his preferences each step of the way, was a huge success. Taking turns, rather than demanding his own way, is a mark of his maturing. In a world where he’s making more of his own decisions than ever before, he’s also adapting better to others’ decisions, a skill he’ll need in the workplace as well as in relationships.
As thrilling as it was for me to see evidence of creatures long gone, that pales in comparison to watching Cowboy make tracks toward being a more independent adult, both on the road and at home. And on his trek to his future, he’s leaving eternal impressions on my heart.