Right now, I am racing the clock. It’s 10:30 pm and I took an Ambien 10 minutes ago. I just got back from golfing with my dad and father-in-law. Stopped at a bar with a few of them and we ate a little bit, told some jokes and had a few beers. I’m a bit on a high. Not the high I typically enjoy, but a high none the less.
I had gotten a text from my oldest daughter while I am having a few laughs at the bar to try a new playlist of music she created. I love when either of the kids send me music to listen to and my oldest daughter and I really have a very similar taste in tunes right now so I knew it would be a good time to roll the windows down and enjoy it while I made my way home for the night.
It’s a bit of a ride so I was enjoying a bunch of the songs when I saw up ahead a bit of traffic. Cars were driving extremely slowly. I made my way to the front of the traffic eventually when I saw it and couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. While all these other cars were trying to speed and get around this car I slowed down and got right behind it. I recognized the sign on the top of the car that said, “New England Driving School”.
My youngest daughter just finished her last driving hour the night before with that same school. She is just a few weeks away from taking her driving license test. She is the LAST for my wife and me. In a few short weeks the “can you pick me up here” “can you drive me there” will be done for us. The rides to school will stop and she will be free to be whenever she wants to be. While on the outside I am excited, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE my girls growing up. I really do. I love building a newrelationship with them, letting them in on some of life’s secrets while they teach me how to be old and slightly cooler than most of the dads my age. But, really though, I HATE HATE HATE this at the same time. My wife has put everything into these two beautiful kids. Our identity has basically always been whatever they are into. And I love that. I love being their dad. I love it, and I don’t want this part of life to be over. I want them to be 8 and 10 years old. I love all this new freedom I have, but I hate it all the same. Time is cruel.
As I slowed my car down and watched this new driver push 20 mph swerving a bit between the lanes, putting the blinker to take a left but taking a right I couldn’t stop smiling. This kid was a TERRIBLE driver. I fucking loved it. I had the windows down listening to my oldest daughter’s playlist while I pictured my youngest daughter in that car. Petrified about going too fast, going too slow, how the hell do you turn on the windshield wipers, and those sweaty hands clutching that steering wheel.
Was it the couple beers I had, or the golf with the two most influential men I’ve ever had in my life, or the music, or picturing the love in my wife’s eyes when she snuggled my youngest in her arms? I don’t know, but I had a nice little Thursday night cry. The cry you have when you can’t stop smiling. The tears that make no sense because you are incredibly happy and filled with gratitude and joy with what life has given to you.
Maybe I should leave this story in the drafts and edit it tomorrow and make sure the grammar looks good and I don’t sound like an idiot with sentences that make no sense together. But that isn’t life, it isn’t perfect and wonderful and filled with happiness all the time. Sometimes it sucks, tonight though, it was perfect. I never wanted to get home. I love getting hit with moments where I’m so overwhelmed with love and joy that I don’t know what to do other than just let it all happen. I wonder if that petrified kid driving with their driving instructor turned to them and said “Um, what do I do if a old bald guy is weeping in the car behind me. I never saw that in training videos we watched”.
Just let him cry it out kid. He’s stuck in a moment he doesn’t want to end.
Forever and always the luckiest man in any room, or car….
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