We drive away
and head north to Kansas. It was wonderful to see Dad and hard to leave. We met his friends, heard and told stories, ate a lot, and fulfilled a fantasy I've had for a while now: spending time together at the computer, crossing the borders of PC and Mac. But we had to leave.
Always, when we grew up and came back home to visit Mom and Dad—always—they met us at the airport or bus station. They'd be leaning in toward us, smiling, when we emerged from the gangway. And they would be at the window still waving and smiling as the plane lifted, and we frantically waved back. Of course, in the past few years, none of us can walk with loved ones to the final boarding area, or greet them as they walk from the ramp.
Other things change, too. Now Mom isn't there anymore when we go home. But this time, Dad walked us to the wet parking lot, the sun a small round bright spot in the gray clouds. We stood and talked awhile, then we did get in the car, and we did drive away. He was there until we turned the corner, both of us taking pictures.
Later, we got our tacos in the town that did have the 102mph winds in last night's storm. And though the day was sunny and beautiful, and the highways not crowded, and the Bounder running smoothly, and I love seeing Kansas, and look forward to Nebraska and Wyoming, and the company suits me well—still, I struggle to balance joy and sadness. Oh, you know the familiar task: to be in the moment and savor the past, or carry all the goodness with us into the mystery of tomorrow.
Always, when we grew up and came back home to visit Mom and Dad—always—they met us at the airport or bus station. They'd be leaning in toward us, smiling, when we emerged from the gangway. And they would be at the window still waving and smiling as the plane lifted, and we frantically waved back. Of course, in the past few years, none of us can walk with loved ones to the final boarding area, or greet them as they walk from the ramp.
Other things change, too. Now Mom isn't there anymore when we go home. But this time, Dad walked us to the wet parking lot, the sun a small round bright spot in the gray clouds. We stood and talked awhile, then we did get in the car, and we did drive away. He was there until we turned the corner, both of us taking pictures.
Later, we got our tacos in the town that did have the 102mph winds in last night's storm. And though the day was sunny and beautiful, and the highways not crowded, and the Bounder running smoothly, and I love seeing Kansas, and look forward to Nebraska and Wyoming, and the company suits me well—still, I struggle to balance joy and sadness. Oh, you know the familiar task: to be in the moment and savor the past, or carry all the goodness with us into the mystery of tomorrow.
posted by Susan at 12:07 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home