Driving I-95 S. The Last Term.

Posted on by Live & Learn

snow-gif-winter-white

3:39 am. Thursday morning. Or, Wednesday night bleeding over.
20 minutes until shower time.
I’m staring at the ceiling. Woozy.  Did you get any sleep?

Six hours ago Mom’s helping him pack.
Suitcases are open.
Zeke sets the mood, moping.

“Dad, do you have any sweatpants I can take?”
“Take anything you want.”
“Do you have anything that doesn’t look like leisure wear?”
I smile. It’s clear who mentored that sarcasm, honed now, cold steel glistening.

We’re in the car.
It’s Silent. Father and Son awkward.
He’s turning the dials, away from my 7 on 70s on Sirius to some thumpin’ Electro BEAT.
The bitter taste of scotch at 4:30am.
I let it pass.

We arrive at the airport.
“Your last semester Bud. It sure has gone fast.”
“It has.”
We hug.
He drags his duffle bags into the terminal.
I watch him enter and disappear.
The north wind gusts, I shudder and jump back into the car.

I turn the radio off, the electro beat now too much.
Snow flurries flash in the headlights, white fireflies.
The car is Silent but for the hum of the engine and the heater blowing.
I grip the wheel and accelerate onto I-287.
I glance back at the airport, lights illuminating the night.

He’s standing in line.

Gone.

Notes:

43 thoughts on “Driving I-95 S. The Last Term.”

  1. It seems like yesterday when we were reading about the drop off to his first term. My, how time flies……sigh

  8. My daughter took off to Seattle to watch whales, her childhood dream. I just got back from visiting. She went up there to chase the whales, but fell in love with a mountain. Mount Baker. I think she spends more time walking Mount Baker than chasing the whales nowadays.
    I really like that.

  9. I remember looking out the bus window just before leaving to go back to university and seeing my parents standing there, seeing me off. I was choked because I hadn’t noticed before how small and old they looked. The older woman sitting beside me on the bus patted my thigh when she saw me blinking back tears. “There, there….”
    My point is, I guess, it works both ways – that parting – but we only feel our own pain.

  10. Awww…it’s tough watching them go out on their own (I KNOW, believe me!)…but he’s always in your heart and he will return. Be grateful for all the love in your family.

  14. Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
    For even as He loves the arrow that flies,so He loves also the bow that is stable.
    Kahlil Gibran

  16. I’ve never understood this sweet melancholy – is it that they’re getting older or we are? There is some comfort though in that they do eventually leave – but they’re never gone. 🙂

  17. The observation on mentoring made me smile. The other parts made me remember. But the truth is they are not like…hmm…osprey chicks. These ones tend to hang around the nest. They are not really gone. Loved your writing, as always.

  19. Oh so good DK, again, like I am there. And this line
    Or, Wednesday night bleeding over.

    and this one
    It’s clear who mentored that sarcasm, honed now, cold steel glistening.

    and this one too
    The bitter taste of scotch at 4:30am.
    I let it pass.

    So good.
    Good luck E, and his dad!

  20. Awww…
    Thanks for sharing this moment.

    My son just started his 2nd semester of his first year – today.
    My fil & I dropped him off on Saturday.
    I miss him.

Leave a Reply