Thoughts creep in that I wish I could be doing more...driving or navigating. This is not a new sensation as I recollect the years of babies and play-dates, water fights and swings. Then too, I tried to wrestle the feeling of wanting to contribute, and I couldn't.
Well... I did, and I could probably navigate the BMW, though I would still need him to be the grounding...I am quite far from reaching the ground...even on tiptoes.
Suddenly we are flying through Ottawa, and much like teenagers, you need to go with the flow of traffic...stay alert and keep your confidence. It was as though my headphones were turned to full blast and the cacophony provoked a tension throughout me. I found myself gripping knees and hands. When we were finally extricated from the din the sense of relief was palpable. And...that is pretty much how I rode out the teen years. Aware, exhausted from the stretching and pandemonium of our busy household.
He was always the fun one. Taking them to shows, understanding their music...I was the white-knuckled one. His role was to assuage my fears and mine to remind him of the fragility of life that requires warnings. The push and pull of our relationship worked...we mostly understood we needed the other to balance.
The smile on his face from the ride through Ottawa juxtaposed against my wide-eyed, relieved but pale one makes me laugh. "That was fun!" and all I could do was agree, knowing that he had been flooded with adrenaline as we wove in and out of traffic doing 120k +.
Quebec is not far now...