The winter seemed boundless being that it was an exceptionally cold one. Endless weeks of temperatures well below zero degrees made time drag. It seemed like spring would never come…nevertheless June. My wife was offered one of those ‘can’t say no to’ deals in Houston Texas and after much deliberation and debating, we felt that the better thing to do would be for me to stay behind and get the kids through the rest of the school year.
It wasn’t until that first cold drop of water desperately pulling itself away from the roof falls down the back of my neck that I knew time had passed and the spring had arrived. Temperatures finally gave way to the inevitability of spring life. I smiled and knew we would make it…it would be ok and soon enough the kids would see their mother and I my wife. The smell of damp pine needles and dark earth pierced my nose as I stood on the porch looking out at the streets in the evening.
The spring rains carried on what seemed like endlessly and day and night blended into each other - the water dripping from the eaves and rain tapping at the windowpanes. I could hear that branch scratching at my house at night as the winds that accompanied the spring rain bent the old birch tree at whim. My time to leave was nearing and I filled with excitement and anxiety. The frantic packing began. I brought home copious amounts of boxes…large ones, medium ones, small, tall, wardrobe and television ones. I brought home dish packing kits and endless feet of bubble wrap. Every free moment the kids and I had was spent putting a lifetime of memories into cardboard cubes. Some of our time packing was spent reflecting back and thinking about how we will miss our home in the Adirondack Mountains. But mostly, our time was filled with laugher as we reflected upon those special memories just before tucking them temporarily away. As the time drew closer and the sun warmer, the kids and I made our rounds to family and friends. We did dinners and get-togethers so we could all say our farewells and bon voyage. The same questions were asked over and over “how do you think you will like Texas?”, “do you have a job waiting for you when you get there?”, “when do you think you will be back to visit?” it was an unceasing repetition of questions asked at each gathering. In my sincerest display of fondness and respect, I would recite the same answers as if they were scripted lines from a play. It was sad but I knew that it was something that had to be if my family was ever to be again.
I made my reservations at the hotels along the route I was going to take on my drive to Houston. It was exciting to plan this road trip since I haven’t been on one for many years…and something my wife and I frequently talk about doing once the kids are all off to college and on their own. But those trips are less about purpose and more about freedom.
The day finally comes. I make my way to the high school to pick up my two children. Bounded by friends who refused to let them go from embracing arms, my kids make their way slowly towards the car filled with tears and sadness. I console them as much as possible but knew perhaps words are just not appropriate at the time. The got in the car hunched over and silent and we make our way towards the highway. This is the beginning and not the end. This is our new life and a new adventure.