April 21st 2013
After dropping Dayna off at her father's, I decided to stop
in at my father's to take a break from driving.
Unsurprisingly, Dad made up the couch and would not let me head back
home. He told me I was spending the
night.
It was a good visit. We
chatted quite a bit. I told him all about Virginia. I told him about how we were moving soon and
the circumstances of trying to pack and all.
I said, "Want to come? I'm
sure Lisa and Dave won't mind the help."
He laughed. He said he has the
cats. He has the house to take care
of. He wasn't prepared for a vacation.
Around midnight or so Lisa texted me to find out if I was
heading back or crashing at Dad's. She
instructed me to spend the night and bring Dad home tomorrow. I told Dad, he smiled.
The next morning I heard Dad talking to Marty as he was leaving for work. "Would you be able to take care of the cats for a few days?"
When I got up, Dad handed me a coffee mug and spoon,
non-dairy creamer, and a bag of sugar. He
informed me he had to take a shower and pack a bag. He was coming to help me pack since he knew
my back was bad and Lisa and Dave were so nice to help me move, he was going to
help them move. He's only ever been to
Virginia once, it was Virginia Beach, and it was a LONG time ago. This would be a brand new experience for
him.
Dad usually describes himself as "having a
condition." He has trouble with anxiety.
It's especially prominent in new places and in crowds. He tends to talk to himself. Sometimes loudly. I'm not sure he knows he's doing it a lot of
the time. Most times it's harmless. I've lived with him my whole life, so I am
quite used to his quirks. Sometimes I
will intervene, other times they play out on their own with no problem.
I was a little worried about how he would tolerate being
away from home. I knew in the long run,
the environment change would be therapeutic.
It has been for me. At first
though, I was nervous how he would adapt to a noisy house full of people with
two small, active children! All in all,
it went well with just a few minor bumps.
We set out with a full tank of gas onto the Garden State
Parkway south bound to exit 98. We
followed the twists and turns to briefly visit Route 34 and enter I-195 west. I don't think Dad has ever been on 195
before. I'm quite familiar with it from
the time I lived in Manchester. I had
some doctor's visits over in Hamilton and took 571 -->537 --> 195 to get
there.
At exit 6, we merged onto the ramp for the NJ Turnpike.
"Prepare for the ugliest hour of our trip, Pop. Once we survive the Turnpike, the rest is
easy, piece of cake, and beautiful-aside from about 45 seconds of tunnel in
Baltimore. That keeps my anxiety through
the roof. I usually pray through the
whole thing. We'll be fine."
About a half hour in, Dad was still looking a bit high strung.
I asked if he was ok. He said he
was. I assured him the trip gets
better. We stopped at the last rest stop
in NJ. Then we got back on the road.
Delaware Memorial Bridge.
One of my favorites. I don't know
what it is, I just find that bridge to be really pretty. There is another one or two along the trip I
find beautiful, I cannot remember their names.
I will try to take note next trip.
Into Delaware we crossed. As a
good tour guide, I notified Dad. He
asked how long we'd be in Delaware. He was
surprised when I replied, "About a half an hour." Then I added, "But don't worry. They make up for it by raping us in tolls. It's like $4 in and $4 out. Smallest state in the country, but highest
toll price tag per time you drive through!"
By the time we entered Maryland, Dad was calming down. He put his glasses on and was beginning to
remark on the beauty of the scenery. He
commented how he knew he was feeling better - he needed his glasses to
see! Usually around the house, he
wanders about without them.
We came upon the tunnel and sailed through with ease. I breathed a sigh of relief on the other
side.
Dad said, "That wasn't so bad."
I said, "No.
It's usually not horrible. I just
HATE tunnels. I was praying the whole
time. I always do."
"I was, too." He confided.
Welcome to Virginia!
Two hours left! Home stretch
now! I'm smiling because I am almost
home. It's amazing how it hasn't even
been a year yet, and I feel like I am coming home coming back to Virginia. I did not feel as if I was coming home
bringing Dayna Leigh back to NJ. It's
kind of sad to think about. I spent so
many years of my life there, but it doesn't feel like "home". I guess it really never did. I never felt "home," I just felt
"I live here," but it wasn't how I define "home." Where I am now, in Virginia... THIS feels
like HOME. Where I am SUPPOSED to
BE. I BELONG.
"It's beautiful, isn't it Dad?"
"Yes, it is."
"And there aren't any tolls. Makes you wonder what they spend all that
toll money on in NJ."
"Heh. That's a
good question!"
I got off I-95 a little further north than I usually
would. I drove Dad past the barn
first. It was dark, but I wanted to show
him the horses and chickens:-) I wanted
him to see the nature and land before we hit suburbia. At the traffic light at Brook Rd, I hung a
right. Then I immediately jumped three
lanes left and made a left onto Cedar Lane.
Dad grabbed the door handle and made a sound sort of like, "WHOA!" I could almost see his eyeballs fall out of
his head and roll across the floor mat in my peripheral vision.
"It's ok, Dad.
We're not in Jersey. You can do
that here."
"You would never be able to do that back home!"
"Nope. You can
legally hang U-turns in the middle of the street here, too."
After a quick check in at the barn, we headed to the house. The kids were up and crazy waiting for me to
get back. Dinner was waiting. The dog was happy to see me. The kitten missed me. It was a very animated and warm welcome
home. :-) I think Dad may have been a little
overwhelmed, but he handled it like a real trooper, right in stride! He even fell in love with the dog. He commented how he could understand the
dog. Dad's got really poor eyesight, the
dog is deaf, they both have ailments, they're on the same wavelength.
Dad called Marty to check in and make sure the cats were ok
and the house was still standing. He
dialed Marty's cell number.
"Hello?"
"Hello? Marty?"
"No, there's no Marty here."
"Oh, I'm sorry.
I must have the wrong number." And Dad hung up.
Dad's cell phone rang.
Caller ID says it's Marty.
"Hello? Marty?"
"One smart ass remark and you hang up?" :-)
Yeah, it runs in the family genes...being snarky and fluent
in sarcasm is kind of a pre-requisite.
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