But I hadn't seen Sooby, Pooh, Bootsie, and Zoomie since Mother's Day. More importantly, Sooby would turn eleven in four days and Zoomie's sixth birthday had been the day before. I counted on my fingers all the perfectly logical, sane reasons why I should stay home--but the kids had leftover cake at their house, and I had presents. I wanted desperately to see them, and so I set out.
About ninety minutes into my drive, the sky took on a dark indigo tint, and torrents of rain reduced visibility to nearly zero. The farther along I crept, the more vehicles I saw stopped along the highway, flashers blinking. Hail pelted my minivan, and debris flew across the highway. I thought of that memorable scene from The Wizard of Oz where bicycle becomes broom and Miss Gulch turns into the Wicked Witch.
Thank goodness for the semi. With its taillights flashing hope a little way in front of me, I was able to creep behind it through rows of stopped vehicles toward slightly brighter sky and the exit I needed. Weather conditions continued to improve from there, and I drove the last leg of the trip in sunshine.
Turning toward the kids' house, I caught sight of Pooh standing in the street, peering around the brush along the front of their property. Quickly, he ran into the wooded area to alert the other three that, finally, about half an hour later than expected, I was just about there. I turned into the driveway to this:
Four children had waited patiently for me to get there, jack-o'-lanterns full of leaves to herald my arrival. I have never treasured--or needed--a welcome more.
I won't lie--in many ways, I have had a tough seven years. I have watched my dad suffer a terminal illness, sat with him as he died, and cared for my mom as she has grieved, struggled to find her place alone in the world, and faced numerous health issues of her own. There are times when the responsibility is almost too much. Without a doubt, the hardest thing about being the age I am is watching my parents become frail and seeing them through these last days.
But then, if I just hang on, if I look past the hail, the torrential downpour, and the swirling debris, those great little kids--six of them in all--will sustain me and give me hope. There, to balance out the storms, will be cake and make-believe and a leaf-strewn driveway.
Happy birthday this week, Sooby and Zoomie. You, your siblings, and your cousins are my bright patch of sky. The gifts I brought home from your house today are far superior to anything I might have left there for you.
