Monday, February 18, 2008

'til the cows come home. . .

Nothing says, "Roadtrip!" like six inches of wet snow. This is what I woke to on Sunday. Horozontal flakes were accumulating faster than they could be cleared.

Knowing what my day was to bring, I geared up and headed to the gym to work off some of my anxiety for the big revelation. The surface roads were a disaster despite the many snowplows that were rolling about town. A gentleman was shovelling the sidewalk at the Y in a futile attempt to get ahead of it. He'd given up well before I headed back home. The walk was very slippery, but there was no reason to fight mother nature.

The drive to Mom & Dad's was mostly uneventful -- I'm a big fan of uneventful drives. The highways were wet but free of snow. After 40 miles, there was only light rain for the remainder of the trip. I was happy to arrive to vegetable soup and homemade rolls. The kids quickly settled in playing with the toys that would be special nowhere else but at Grandma and Papa's. Since Dad's paralysis, Mom & Dad seem to have aged a little more than they might have otherwise, but they were well and fine.

The next several hours I was pretty much stuck in my head wondering how and when I'd drop my bomb. I initially thought I'd wait until I got the kids to bed, but then realized that would leave little time for them to work through the news before bed -- and Mom's brain has a tendency to keep her awake with worries. I almost chickened out and then all of the kids disappeared to other rooms and I seized the moment. They are sad for me. They will worry about me. I can't say they were completely surprised. They were moderately aware of how little time Martin & I have shared as of late. Never did they mention the audacity of "breaking vows" or suggest that I stick it out any longer. I feel very supported. But I am still sad that they are sad.

The rest of our time there was mostly business as usual. The ground was soggy from two inches of rain the previous day and it was windy and cold, so we didn't spend time outside like we usually do. Emily practiced drawing dragons, Isaac & Audrey made up numerous goofy games to occupy themselves. I probably brought up politics too often, but that's half the fun of talking to my dad.

And though the stories of soybean farming, skinning deer and shooting opposums remind me of my roots and why I happily left the midwest for the big city some years ago, I still enjoy viewing a cattle parade from the dining room window now and then.

1 comment:

whoinsamhill said...

Backup your diary as one day at least one of your kids (or grandkids) is going to need it, need to read it. It really tells a story.