All I seem to do these days is drive around. I pick up kids from here and deliver them to there. I pick up other kids from there and deliver them here, there and there.
When I’m not driving around, I’m working or cooking or reading, pretty much in that order.
I’m not sure why my life feels so crowded now. I crave space but instead my days are chopped into bits that I have to give away.
Meanwhile, I’m acutely aware that change is afoot and I don’t really embrace that idea at all. My middle son is a senior in high school and is planning to attend college in another state (he says) and all I can think are the words of the Wild Things, “Oh please don’t go–we’ll eat you up–we love you so!” right before Max climbed into his boat and sailed away.
But that’s the story of life, isn’t it? People come and people go, whether you are ready or not. (For instance, Monday was the 26th anniversary of my dad’s death. He was only 47. I always hasten to add his age because it was so unfair that his life was abbreviated. I want people to understand that. Forty-seven. Too young.)
Anyway, so while time is ticking away, I’ll be driving, picking up and delivering, gazing into the rear view mirror while I’m speeding along.
