the morning drive

Fog had settled while we slept.  Will had mentioned it was misty outside, when I was sprinting through a little last minute emergency sewing job, but I had thought nothing of it.  Picturing a mild mist, kissing the ground and making everything look dreamy.

Well, when I exited the front door I got a little bit of a shock.  There was nothing dreamy about this “mist”.  It was pea-soup plain and simple.  And thundering with rain.

I turned my wipers onto their highest setting, put my lights on and cautiously edged out onto the road, images of other car trips in bad fog, roaring to the forefront of my brain.  The stacks of piled up cars on the roadside, silent, ghostly, passengers wandering around, like lost souls. 

“You have to be careful,“ I tell my son.  “When you are driving in the fog.  You must be extra vigilant, go a little slower on the gas.“  I’m remembering that news program I saw back in the 90’s, where they showed that people lost their perspective in fog and actually, sped up considerably, because they couldn’t gauge their speed, by things whirring past.

I am hunched over the wheel, trying not to sweat.  These are horrible driving conditions.  It’s hard to see.

“Just think,“ Will said, his voice muffled slightly from behind the plastic bunny nose he is wearing.  “That above these clouds that we are in, it is beautiful blue skies.  Bright sunshine, stretching out as far as the eye can see.“ 

I peel my eyes off the road and glance over at him.  He is dressed very street edgy, a cool tee-shirt, dark jeans, tousled auburn hair… and then there is the nose, and the fluffy white and pink bunny ears, perched on his head.  6 foot 4.  A grown man/boy and he looks absolutely adorable in an interesting, funky absolutely-Will way.

And I think about what he said.  About the blue skies that are there, even when we can’t see them.  And how that is so like life.  And I want to remember this because it seems profound, even though Will is off, thinking about other things, teenage things, things I have no comprehension of. 

He has no idea how his offhanded statement effected me.  That all my nervousness about driving vanished.  That suddenly everything thing felt hopeful and promising. 

I dropped him off at school.  We were late because of the slowness of the traffic, the weather.  Everyone else was as well.  The car line-up stretching out forever.  He jumped out of the car, shoulders hunched slightly to ward off the rain, and dashed into the school.  And I drove home, the car empty, but not really, because even though he had gotten out, something of my boy, still lingered behind, keeping me company on the ride home.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, October 31, 2008 in Chewing the Fat