Well, kind of.
At 4 a.m. on Saturday, my daughter, 7-year-old granddaughter, and I hit the turnpike to drive from Boston to Delaware to visit my ailing mom.
Before we left the driveway, the 7-year-old was back asleep and stayed that way for almost three hours.
As I drove in the blackness of too-early morn, my daughter and I conversed quietly in the front seat. The dark shapes of homes and trees – then the lit-up highway signs and speeding cars and trucks – passed by like shadowy strangers.
We reminisced about her Nanny – my mom – whose strong feisty personality is dimming. We laughed softly as we shared a story or two of Nanny’s powerful presence in our lives, and then my daughter slowly, slowly, drifted off to her own dreams.
I was alone, then, in the quiet swiftly moving car, and I reached out for some music, something to fill the space of memories and sadness. Continue reading