I received a text from my oldest son about a week ago reminding me to pick him up from college to come home for fall break. Though I do not enjoy driving, I do look forward to bringing him home.
There are three basic ways to get to his university: the major highway route which is definitely not fun and does not get one there any faster though the vehicle is driven at a higher rate of speed; the combined major highway/minor highway route that is stressful until the exit onto the smaller highway; and the backcountry road way that, much to my delight, is the shortest, most direct route and even with a certain amount of meandering, not only gets one there faster, but the beauty of the countryside soothes my mind and allows me to think.
I am grateful that my college-bound son is only an hour away from home. Just far enough for him to have his independence and not so far that he has to worry about how to get home for breaks. I am reminded of how I, as an undergraduate student, would trudge down to the bus stop with my backpack and overnight bag, and get on a bus heading north--a trip that would take close to three hours. Never wanting to completely fall asleep on a bus for fear that I would miss my stop or perhaps awaken suddenly to a new less-welcomed seat mate, I would try to entertain my mind by reliving events so I would not fall asleep. Sometimes I do that when I drive. I often sing. I also like to practice what I would say if someone asked me a particular question. To remain alert I have to remind myself of my journey at regular intervals so as not to get lost in my day dreaming and drive into a ditch.
Once we load up the minivan with the laundry bag, computer, backpack filled with books and a duffle bag containing clothes, I then have a traveling companion who fills me in on what his life is like. We can discuss roommate issues, how difficult his classes are and what he is planning to do this summer. We can update each other on different family scenarios that have been communicated through email and texts. I can ask about Facebook posts, especially ones in which there are girls involved. We drive together through the countryside until we get home.
Several days later we put those items back into the minivan and take the drive back to college. We finish our stories and try to think of anything we have forgotten to tell one another. Thanksgiving is not that far away and given the amount of work we each have in front of us, we won't have time to even count the days. I help carry the items back into the dorm room, a place where I am not responsible for making sure the bed is made or the clothes are picked up off the floor. It is not where I live; it is my son's home--for now.
Soon I am in the minivan heading back to our house. I love the way the sun is setting and how beautiful the leaves are as they are turning colors. I see cars heading toward where my son is living and wonder if these are parents taking the same trip with their college-aged sons and daughters. I see people in cars in front of me and wonder if they already said good-bye and are hoping to get to their homes before dark.
Not sure why but I always listen to the same Harry Connick, Jr. cd on my road trip and it is just the right length to get me to the dorm or back home. It is a cue that I am going to see my son, or that I am on my way home to see the rest of my family. Either way, it keeps me from driving alone.
There are three basic ways to get to his university: the major highway route which is definitely not fun and does not get one there any faster though the vehicle is driven at a higher rate of speed; the combined major highway/minor highway route that is stressful until the exit onto the smaller highway; and the backcountry road way that, much to my delight, is the shortest, most direct route and even with a certain amount of meandering, not only gets one there faster, but the beauty of the countryside soothes my mind and allows me to think.
I am grateful that my college-bound son is only an hour away from home. Just far enough for him to have his independence and not so far that he has to worry about how to get home for breaks. I am reminded of how I, as an undergraduate student, would trudge down to the bus stop with my backpack and overnight bag, and get on a bus heading north--a trip that would take close to three hours. Never wanting to completely fall asleep on a bus for fear that I would miss my stop or perhaps awaken suddenly to a new less-welcomed seat mate, I would try to entertain my mind by reliving events so I would not fall asleep. Sometimes I do that when I drive. I often sing. I also like to practice what I would say if someone asked me a particular question. To remain alert I have to remind myself of my journey at regular intervals so as not to get lost in my day dreaming and drive into a ditch.
Once we load up the minivan with the laundry bag, computer, backpack filled with books and a duffle bag containing clothes, I then have a traveling companion who fills me in on what his life is like. We can discuss roommate issues, how difficult his classes are and what he is planning to do this summer. We can update each other on different family scenarios that have been communicated through email and texts. I can ask about Facebook posts, especially ones in which there are girls involved. We drive together through the countryside until we get home.
Several days later we put those items back into the minivan and take the drive back to college. We finish our stories and try to think of anything we have forgotten to tell one another. Thanksgiving is not that far away and given the amount of work we each have in front of us, we won't have time to even count the days. I help carry the items back into the dorm room, a place where I am not responsible for making sure the bed is made or the clothes are picked up off the floor. It is not where I live; it is my son's home--for now.
Soon I am in the minivan heading back to our house. I love the way the sun is setting and how beautiful the leaves are as they are turning colors. I see cars heading toward where my son is living and wonder if these are parents taking the same trip with their college-aged sons and daughters. I see people in cars in front of me and wonder if they already said good-bye and are hoping to get to their homes before dark.
Not sure why but I always listen to the same Harry Connick, Jr. cd on my road trip and it is just the right length to get me to the dorm or back home. It is a cue that I am going to see my son, or that I am on my way home to see the rest of my family. Either way, it keeps me from driving alone.
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