Two Trips and a Tiny Shadow
What happens when you stop hustling long enough to live.
Hey. Its been a while.
I took the month of August for myself. I didn’t spend it hustling, writing, or chasing the next thing. I stepped back and focused on the two big trips we’d been planning and saving for all year: a week-long road trip to Missouri and five days in Cancun for my birthday.
At the start of August, Zachary and I drove halfway across the country from Philadelphia to St. Louis with Kinslea Mae in tow. It’s a long, straight stretch from 76 to I-70. That’s it — I-70 from Pittsburgh to STL. Zach drove, and I was passenger princess, DJ, and animal wrangler.
I’ve taken this road trip three times before, but never as an active participant. Usually I was crammed in the back with my belongings and confused animals, like some kind of horse-drawn trolley barreling down I-70. This time I sat in the passenger seat and let the world roll by without trying to squeeze something productive out of it.
A few days before we left, my mom called. Her boss had a deaf black kitten who needed rescuing. Knowing Zachary and I had been hoping for a black kitten one day, she asked if we wanted him. By the time we arrived in Missouri, it was clear: the Cat Distribution System had made its choice.
Immediately upon meeting him, I could tell he wasn’t deaf. Decades of living with cats told me something else. After a quick vet visit for shots, we had confirmation of his disease: Cerebellar Hypoplasia. Which sounds clinical, but really it’s just a fancy way of saying: clumsy boi.
Picture a tiny shadow — curious, cocky, and clumsy all at once — who screams when his people aren’t within eyesight. You’re supposed to scream into the void, but we got the one who screams back. That’s Vader. He arrived less than 20 minutes after we did, and I was immediately in love.
Now we had the added complication of towing around a tiny, disabled kitten alongside my velcro dog. And of course, the whole reason we’d driven to Missouri was to pick up family heirlooms and finally bring them home. But because we screwed up the car rental, we could only haul back the crystal, my books, and the other half of my glass desk.
We had a wonderful time bouncing between family members. We joked about leaving the “kids” — Kinslea and Vader — with our parents while we made the rounds. The visits were grounding and full of small joys. There’s never enough time to see everyone, but we tried.
The drive home was uneventful. So uneventful that by the third hour I was already ready to be home. (It took 14.) The car was crammed to the gills: Kinslea in the backseat, Vader curled in his little spaceship carrier on my lap. They were both so well behaved, like they knew we were going home.
A week of strategic cat-to-kitten introductions, an apartment to kitten-proof, and endless refereeing between curious paws and fragile knick-knacks. By the time we finally zipped the suitcase for our first real vacation, it felt almost surreal — trading litter box patrols and tangled cords for sunlight and salt water.
We stayed at the Excellence Riviera Cancun, an all-inclusive resort. I’d been there before for a friend’s bachelor party and knew it was the kind of relaxation I wanted for my birthday. I’d never taken a vacation for myself.
You see, my 30th birthday was ruined by the COVID-19 pandemic. No big bash, no hugs, not even one person in the room with me. Just a handful of virtual well-wishes and a few no-contact, masked up dessert drop-offs. It was lonely, and I vowed that the next milestone would be different.
So I scrimped and saved, paid off credit cards, and jumped on a 47% discount for my birthday weekend. Walking into the resort felt like stepping into the opposite of my 30th birthday. Warm air, the smell of saltwater, staff who greeted us like we belonged there. They literally said “welcome home.” For once, I didn’t have to be in charge of anything. No inbox to clear, no crisis to manage, no plan beyond choosing between the pool or the beach.
Arriving into our room I was suprised by a massive 35th birthday balloon sculpture, cake, and champagne with a view overlooking the resort and the ocean beyond. All lovingly arranged by Zachary. It stopped me in my tracks. After years of letting milestones slip by, this one felt claimed.
Days fell into an easy rhythm. I’d start by watching the sunrise from our balcony before we wandered down toward the beach. Breakfast, a little pool time, then usually a nap for me while Zachary went off to explore. The pool was divine, the hydrotherapy session was heavenly, and the drinks were absolute perfection.
For once, I wasn’t squeezing rest into the margins — rest was the whole point. The reason I chose all-inclusive was simple: I wanted to know exactly how much everything cost up front and only worry about tips. But it didn’t come easy. For the first two days I actually stressed myself out that I wasn’t doing enough relaxing. I needed to retreat from the noise and the heat more often than I wanted to admit.
One night there was a Mexican-themed party with a massive buffet, passionfruit margaritas, and nonstop entertainment. An all-female mariachi band, a folklore show with dancers in traditional clothing from across Mexico’s regions, and finally a Mayan ritual. I loved every bit of it. I truly enjoy Mexico and its people. We left planning our next trip back.
August wasn’t about hustling or chasing the next step in my career. It was about long roads, new beginnings, family, and rest. About claiming joy where I once let it pass me by. September is bringing its own pace and pressures, but I’ll carry this reminder with me: sometimes the most radical act is choosing to live for yourself and maybe a tiny kitten.
Sounds like the perfect August. Congrats on adopting Vader. He sounds wonderful.