ninanevermore

.
.
.
Sometimes when I am in my car I fantasize about driving away and not coming home. Whatever highway I am on, I think about where I would end up if I just kept going. Interstate 45 would take me to Dallas if I head north, or I could drive to Galveston Island and then hop on a boat and take off into the Gulf of Mexico, never to be seen again on land. Interstate 10 would take me to San Antonio, where I could wander the River Walk, or New Orleans where I could lose myself in the French Quarter.

Then there all the smaller highways and byways I could travel. I once saw California, but I was on a business trip so I didn’t really get to explore anything. It might be fun to drive until I got to the historic Route 66 and see all the out of the way places it has to offer until it spit me out close to the Pacific Ocean. Or I could drive to Florida and then keep going once I reached the Atlantic coast, then travel along it all the way to New England. I hear it’s beautiful in the fall.

I don’t have a passport, so I can only run so far. Not only do I not have a passport, I don’t really have any money, so I can’t run at all.

"Look, chicks!" my son said last night as we were reading a bedtime story. He pointed to a picture in his library book of a chicken with 3 baby chicks at her feet.

"Uh-huh," I said.

"I bet they love their mommy, just like I love you." He puckered up his lips for a kiss.

I kissed him back and said, "I bet they do." He was smiling at me and his eyes were as bright as a clear summer sky. When he smiles like that he is so beautiful a child that he takes my breath away. I can't believe how much I love him; I never knew I could love anyone this much before he came along.

This morning on the way to work, I got a call from the girl at the YMCA before school program, which is no doubt about to tell me that my son is not welcome there anymore. There was an incident. He was with the school counselor (one of 3 adults who got kicked this morning). She just wanted to let me know. I thanked her.

I was told yesterday he rarely smiles at school. This means they don’t ever get to see how beautiful he is. How can they if he never smiles at them? How can they if all they see is an angry, screaming boy who either runs away from people or attacks them?

When I got to the intersection where I turn to go reach my office, something in the back of my mind reminded me that if I kept heading straight, I would reach the freeway. Once I reached the freeway, I could keep driving somewhere else - all kinds of places. Anywhere I wanted to go, until I ran out of gas and money. When that happened, I could lie down in a field somewhere and stare at the sky and think of someone else to be. Maybe someone more competent than I could step in and fix the things in my life that I seem unable to. Then I could start a career as a vagabond bag-lady and poet, with no responsibilities and no ties that bind. With no responsibilities, I couldn’t screw any of them up. With no ties, I couldn’t be pulled in a million different directions until I feel like I’m coming apart. I would be free in the Bobby McGee sense of the word. With nothing left to lose, I couldn’t worry about losing anything, including my mind, could I?

I turned at the intersection, though, and went to work. Here I sit, a would-be bag-lady poet disguised as a respectable working wife and mother. Part of me kept driving this morning, but not enough of me for anyone to notice that I'm gone. I look like I'm at work, but my heart is driving, driving, driving to someplace that isn't here. Someplace where I can either figure things out, or give up and call it quits.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *