Yesterday morning, as Opa chased Mary around the house and Nana gave Bobby a final pony ride, Peter and I packed up the car and prepared ourselves mentally for the long journey home. The car was certainly heavier than it was coming out; loaded down with full stomachs, a couple new games to play in the car, a Wigle whiskey barrel, Christmas presents from the Aunts who we wouldn't see before the end of the year, and new memories of old traditions.
While an eight-hour car ride is challenging for any driver or passenger, especially in a jam-packed vehicle, it can be particularly trying for kids. My babies were no exception. One wanted to crawl, stand up and pull out electrical cords from walls; the other wanted to run, jump, and stage adventures through make believe lands. But constrained within their miniature harnesses, they turned to alternative, energy burning activities with the help of their mediator (me) lodged in between their two car seats.
Bobby mostly wrestled with his stuffed animals while listening to me read, sucking his thumb, and eating cheerios. He also slept a lot. Mary diverted her energy toward her words; I swear she talked for seven hours straight. We did Stickers and made the stickers talk. We did fairy magnets and made the fairies talk. We colored and made the illuminated versions of Anna and Elsa talk. We made Horton talk to Corduroy who talked to Owl who talked to Daddy. And when every last character from the car was exhausted, Mary just started talking to anyone willing to listen.
The conversations mostly meandered along the memories that we had collected over our Thanksgiving break in Pittsburgh. And despite wanting to take a nap myself, I helped her musings continue.
I was Anna yesterday. Where's Elsa?
I don't know, honey.
At Lyla's house. My friend, Lyla was Elsa.
That's right. You guys both dressed up yesterday.
But I didn't wear a crown.
That's okay.
Remember Opa broke a glass? And Daddy broke a glass?
That's right. It's okay though. They cleaned it up.
Remember Oliver.
I do.
Who's Oliver's Mommy?
Nicole; she gave you your Corduroy book.
Oh yeah! And who's Oliver's Daddy?
Alec.
And who's that other little boy I played with?
Ford.
And who's that little girl?
Elsie.
Yeah, Elsie ... Remember how Opa broke a glass? And then Daddy broke a glass?
I do, honey. It's okay though.
Can we play Bumbo?
Bingo?
Yeah! 
Remember when we went up, up, up the mountain on the train?
I do. Wasn't that fun?
And remember turkey cookies. I ate one, two, three, FOUR turkey cookies!
They are the best, huh? Aunt Joyce makes those every year.
Did Baby Wes eat a turkey cookie?
I bet he did.
Did Will?
I think so.
Remember Daddy AND Opa broke a glass?
Yep.
Can you make Corduroy talk to Daddy again?
Remember we saw Nana at the Salon?
Yeah, she was getting her hair done too.
And you got your hairs cut too.
I did.
Remember Daddy broke a glass? And Opa too!
I know, honey.
Can we do fairies again?
Remember when I knocked the window over at the Club?
It was just the pane, honey. We fixed it.
Did Daddy eat TWO lobsters?
He did! And a piece of prime rib!
And he broke a glass. And so did Opa.
You are never going to forget that are you?
Can I read you Paddington?
Remember the trains? And Tinkerbell and Captain Hook?
Wasn't that cool!
Yeah. And Santa.
What did you ask Santa for?
A dolly. And a dollhouse. AND a reindeer.
And what does Bobby want?
A snowsuit and a hat.
That's right. Are you going to write Santa a letter?
Yeah.
And mail it to the North Pole?
Yeah.
Is he going to come to our house on Christmas Day?
Yeah.
And should we leave him some cookies and milk?
Remember when Opa broke a glass?
And Daddy did too.
For me, the memories I collected in Pittsburgh were hard to put into words. I started to as we drove away from my parents street, bound for the Interstates, but I could sense confusion on the face of my quizzical daughter as a tear fell off my cheek.
'Mommy's sad.'
'Yeah, honey.'
'You miss your Mommy and Daddy?' she continued.
(Man, she is smart / I've told her that before I guess.) 'I do honey.'
But it was more than that. I miss Pittsburgh. All of it. It's home to my family, friends and favorite childhood memories. It's got as much to offer within its pocket sized dimensions as some of the biggest cities in the world. And for the most part, it's all affordable. It's a magical gem of a city that seems to be one of the nation's best kept secrets.
(A Distillery that could very well be on the Bourbon Trail (Wigle Whiskey), Sushi that directly competes with Nobu (UMI), historic parks once walked and golfed and picnicked by Industry's founding fathers (Schenley, Frick and Mellon Parks), a Conservatory that puts Chicago's to shame (Phipps), a hairdresser who can do a family of four's hair and deliver the city's best gossip in under an hour (ask for Anne at Studio Booth), remnants of Steel's past (the Incline and a river still floating with coal barges) and buildings dedicated to the future of tech advancements (Carnegie Mellon.) Shows, concerts, museums, galleries, unique shops, and international cuisine inspired by ancestors that once immigrated to a city of promise more than a century ago. And friendly service where ever you go that just might include a 'how yinz doing today?')
I love giving my children tastes of its character and charm with every visit. And I always hate saying goodbye. Through the pictures, I know Mary's memories will be sparked to their fullest. But for now, if her favorite memory from Thanksgiving is Opa and Daddy breaking glasses in the kitchen, I'm okay with it.
Ever thankful for my family, friends, and the great city of Pittsburgh. And thankful that a total of 16 hours in the car with my kids wasn't a screaming mess.
Lo.
