The 1991 trip to Maine with the Schauts felt epic — two families in convoy,

The 1991 trip to Maine with the Schauts felt epic — two families in convoy, heading toward Deena and Floyd’s place, to the far edge of my childhood map.

I remember: • playing basketball with Aaron • the long, hypnotic lines of the highway • the subtle hum of being trusted to drive part of the way • the white hatchback Escort Dad had just gotten • the Vanagon breaking down on the way back

Somewhere on that return trip, Mom started getting sick. We didn’t know it was cancer yet. It was just “something wrong.” That’s how big shifts start: not with a diagnosis, but with a vague unease.

There is a double exposure in my memory of that trip: • one layer full of road-trip joy, teenage banter, gas station snacks, and new landscapes • another, now superimposed over it, full of ominous foreshadowing

Maine didn’t just mark a geography on the map. It marked the beginning of an illness that would redefine our lives.