Friday, January 20, 2012
Atticus sent this link the other day, and it seems an appropriate pick for Poetry Friday, with our daughters on the road.
The poem -- "Rest" by Richard Jones -- begins like this:
It's so late I could cut my lights
and drive the next fifty miles
of empty interstate
flying along in a dream,
countryside alive with shapes and shadows,
and moves into considering this:
This was before
I had children of my own,
and had felt the sharp edge of love
and anxiety whenever I tiptoed
into darkened rooms of sleep
to study the small, peaceful faces
of my beloved darlings. Now,
the fatherly feelings are so strong
the snoring truckers are lucky
I'm not standing on the running board,
tapping on the window,
asking, Is everything okay?
The only part I'm afraid I can't relate to is the later mention in the poem of country music. Even on a long road trip, I can't embrace country music. Unless Patsy Cline sings "Crazy." I can do that. I live in a funny part of the country to be unable to embrace country music, but there you have it. My Friday confession.
And so, here I sit on a Friday, thinking of my daughters, off traveling* the country, wanting to tap on their window and ask, "Is everything okay?" I'm hoping they aren't forced to listen to any country music, and I'm thinking of their astonishingly excellent father. He will tap on my metaphorical window over the next few days, in our relatively quiet house, and ask, "Is everything okay?"
And it is.
Children grow up, and we embrace new ways of being. We adopt new ways of moving through our days. As the poem says:
Nothing for me to do on this road
but drive and give thanks
Read all of "Rest" here, at The Writer's Almanac.
The Poetry Friday round up is at Wild Rose Reader.
* Updated to note: Ramona is still home, so our place isn't entirely quiet. But in comparison to an average day with teens, well ....