Off the Starboard Side I Saw Flowers in Bloom

When one is on a road trip, no other job is more important than that of the driver. This is, after all, the one that moves the group forward, toward the destination. And with this position, come certain privileges, or so it seemed when I was a kid. 

From my backseat view, my father was without a doubt the captain of our wheeled ship. He navigated the rough sees of traffic, expressway exits and detours. All things that put a look of horror on my mother’s face - and she was merely sitting in the passenger seat - so as a child I deduced that my father was obviously an intrepid voyager. My father also determined when we ate and when we made critical restroom breaks. And if any requested break didn’t coincide with his plans, the request was not granted; one would have to wait. My father wasn’t a tyrant, necessarily. Although when my brother and I bickered, as we often did, he did flail his arm in our direction in the backseat. Like a large pendulum his arm cascaded back and forth; rarely did it make contact, but with every weighted swing it struck fear and silence into the hearts and minds of the passengers. Nothing caused us to plaster ourselves faster and firmer against the seat back, than our attempt to narrowly escape harms way. It was the early seventies - my father's approach was not considered out of the norm. And it was effective. 

Around mid afternoon my passengers were starting to chirp and bicker slightly. Of course, they never feel fear. Instead they giggle from the imagery when I threaten to duct tape them to the hotel wall later while I go and enjoy a nice glass of wine by myself. These threats are empty in that they know they will never come to fruition, yet they are full of meaning as they know I'm giving them the last of my patience and grace. 

As I sat today, logging many a mile down the expressway, I thought of those road trips from my youth. I thought not about the power inherent to the captain, but the responsibility and constant, grueling demands on one’s mind and body. Regardless of how tired I now am and the zombie like appearance I had while checking into our hotel, I was pleased with our outing. I was happy that within one day’s time, I changed our scenery so drastically. I love what I do - yet at times, I need to move and see new things. As much as I am a homebody, I am also a gypsy. The trick is balancing the two. So, to bring life to my tired and very frustrated (as of late) soul, I went from snowflakes this morning to lush green grass and lavender colored blossoms by late afternoon. This was needed, and this is good.

Sane