We take an unexpected weekend away- my friend invites me and my daughters to her shore house – and I sense she is getting away from hers. We sing songs, play highway games. I look over at her as we speed south on the highway. There’s the pain, the anxiousness in her face to be away, and I know what she’s doing. I look into lanes to my front to the left of my car- what we’re all doing. Leaving things – our jobs, our housework our neighbors, our spouses.
She’s complained in the past, but any response from me brings, ” I don’t want to talk about it – I’m trying to be positive.” I look at her then quickly back at the road again. How crushingly sad to try to get away from something you’ll continually be pulled back to – by fear and worry and guilt over your kids, your religion, your things. Like one of those balls on a paddle – never getting father from a foot away. Until the string snaps.
I want to do something – but all I can think to do is drive.