My outlook brightened in the morning hours.

Refreshed. Rested. Ready to camp.

In the afternoon, I stopped at a coffee shop long enough to scout out some places to camp in Oregon. I saved a PDF of the map directing me there. I was excited about it.

However, when I finally made it there, once pulling over to check out my PDF map (lights that bright when driving at night, not a good idea, by the way), I found that the campground was about 100 yards from the interstate. I drove around the different campsites and stopped to get out. Cars whirring nearby. Semi-trucks practically on top of you. It seemed … dangerous. And I’m not much of a worrier.

No, my insides told me. I listened.

I knew there were some hostels in Eugene, and I called Mom and Dad to look up the phone number for me. They were funny, all chatty and happy to be helping me. And they wanted to know what I would find out at the hostel.

The lady at Mia Casita had a Hispanic accent with East Coast phrases like “fuggetaboudit.” I still had a couple hours between me and Eugene, and she kindly told me: “I would love to have you come and stay, but with that far to go this time of night and in this weather, fuggetaboudit.”

I didn’t know there was “weather” to worry about, but I later found it was snowing in the passes. Not really anything to worry about for a Midwesterner driving-wise, but I was pretty glad I hadn’t camped.

The nice hostel hostess told me a few towns to check for cheap hotels and wished me well.

I called Mom and Dad back and had them look up the towns she had recommended. In the end, my mom pulled out her old, well-used, much-loved Super 8 directory. She called the number for one and reserved me a room.

When she called back several minutes later, she told me she’d talked to a young man by the name of Ethan (or something like that). “I told him to be on the lookout for my daughter, and to give her the very best deal he could possibly manage because she just finished four years being a missionary and needed to do this sabbatical trip, and she needs to rest well and be refreshed.”

I was in love with my mother.

“And I told him to throw on an AARP discount, because the bill will come to us. You can have one night on us.”

My eyes, sure enough, welled up, and I thanked her.

This is my mother. She might not fully understand this thing I feel I need to do, but she will take what she does understand, and she will communicate it on my behalf until the stars align for me. My needs are her needs.

I pulled into the hotel. Entering, I saw a kid who looked about 12.

“Ethan?”

“Yes.”

“I believe you spoke to my mom,” I said with a goofy grin. “Sorry about that.”

“She was very nice.”

“Yeah, she is.”

From my room, I called Mom back to let her know was all checked in.

“So Ethan took care of you?”