We'd already been traveling for almost an hour and a half. Bored with the monotony of the road, I had almost nodded off twice. Two of the children had. Neck pillows adjusted, heads cocked slightly, and eyes closed, they didn't hear a word said.
Ugh, I thought, what a drive! And, this just one way, followed by a day of work, and then return the same way.
"This exit, Daddy?" She excitedly asks from behind me. Raising a pointed finger and outstretched arm for emphasis. "How much further from there?"
"Some sites 15 minutes, some 30."
Seriously, a commute of 1 hour and 45 minutes. My skin crawls.
Really, is this funny?
"Sometimes the 15 becomes 30 and the 30, 45 with traffic," he explains further.
I turn the volume up allowing music to drown out the words. I don't want to hear anymore. Like not hearing about how far he drives in one day will make the commute disappear.
"I like seeing where you drive to some days, Daddy." Her voice is harder to hear. The music is too loud. He turns it down a bit. Her voice rises cheerfully, "Lets me know more about you and where you go when you are at work."
Ouch. She's right. I am the one with my head stuck in the sand, wishing it away.
I never wanted to marry someone who travels. My father worked out of town a lot while I was growing up. It was a hard life. Hard on him, my mom, their marriage, and our family. We missed him. He missed us. We all missed doing daily life together. Family dinners were cherished because there were less of them. I wanted a different life. Family dinners with everyone present nightly topped my list.
But, if I'm completely honest, for the most part we do eat dinner together every night.
Just some nights, when he works this far away, dinner is served
I look up. He catches my eye.
He smiles and I smile back.
"Crazy isn't it?" he asks me, laughing. I nod, agreeing.