"You get to pick them up."

 

I suppose it was a way to shuffle. 

 

Being in Europe for two weeks has thrown my routine to the wind. I didn't know precisely where I was, or how to speak with the stranger sitting next to me on the bus. The money confused me, as did the menus. Rather than my computer yawning open to write stories and respond to inquiries online every morning, my laptop sat dormant  back at home. Maybe she was sad. Perhaps she was relieved. Then again it's possible that PCs follow their own interests, given the chance. 

 

The role reversal was significant. My daughters took the lead each day, speaking the languages, exchanging currency, buying tickets. I traipsed behind like a basset hound, intent on not getting lost. It seemed unlikely that nineteen years ago I was the alpha female, doling out sandwiches and navigating traffic. On this escapade I was the caboose. 

 

We relied on public transportation. Forty eight times we stepped off the platforms and into trains, trams, busses, paddle boats, motor boats, metros, and on either end, planes. That's almost as many as the cards my brother threw in the air. Now my adoration is aimed at the three daughters whose travel savvy created the elaborate circumstances for our daily excursions. It turns out that shuffling up my routine is a marvelous way to play.