Who's gonna drive you home?
Somewhere on the 401 Eastbound, October 2009
I've been focusing on the road a lot lately (link), likely because it's a place that circumstance dictates we'll be quite familiar with in the months and years to come. Unless we move back to Montreal (not likely...roots don't unroot easily) we'll be covering the 401 and related highways to keep close to family and friends. There are some things, after all, that webcams and headsets just can't do. Like give hugs. Or receive them.
When we hit the road, my retentive-driver ethos compels me to be behind the wheel. But when my wife drives, I often take the camera out and play with it until one of the following things happens:
- I get nauseous beyond belief (reading or focusing on small objects in a moving car + Carmi = one bad combo)
- She gets annoyed beyond belief (I do that to her. And to everyone else around me, apparently.)
This picture, unspectacular as it is, puts me in a place I don't want to be, a place we'll have to occupy for some time, a place - if you can call something so transient a place - that for some can be an adventure, but for others is merely lonely and sad.
I like to look at pictures I've taken because they often bring me right back to what I was feeling when I took them. It doesn't matter whether that feeling is sunny or grey - it's a journey all the same. And I'm always happy to take it as long as I've got my family around me. On this day, as much as I didn't want to be on this road, I was comforted that I wasn't alone.
Your turn: The (open) road too often traveled. Please discuss.
One more thing: Those leaves appeared on the dashboard just before we left for Montreal, a gift for my wife from the kids. I kept them there for the entire journey, a reminder that life is precious.