When Kiddo was in middle and high school, the two of us took some road trips out West … Austin, Santa Fe, Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons, Devil’s Tower, the Badlands, all over Colorado. We’d strap in for days at a time, eating Twizzlers and Subway, listening to music, stopping whenever something looked interesting.
Being out here in Montana with him reminded me of all those road trips. Except this time, Kiddo was the one driving, the one leading the way. And now he says no to soda and Twizzlers, and instead reaches for coffee, smoothies, and beef jerky – and Subway has had to move over in favor of Mexican and barbeque.
But what hasn’t changed is that we still love a good vista and will drive miles and miles to see a new one; Kiddo is still in charge of all the music; and, of course, there’s no way we should ever walk past a music store without going in. I think today that’s what made me most happy, listening to him play and watching as he picked up guitar after guitar.
Tomorrow I go home, and I’m weepy at the thought of being so far from him again. But it settles me knowing he’s doing well and loving life.
He actually said today, “It’s a great time to be alive.” Isn’t that the best? My solace for tomorrow’s departure? Knowing that when I touch down in Michigan my sweetie, my bad puppies, and my own bed await me. That, and the fact that Christmas is only a couple months away, which means I’ll be seeing Kiddo again very soon.
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