Two of us riding nowhere
Spending someone's hard earned pay
Two of us Sunday driving
Not arriving
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
Two of us sending postcards
Writing letters on my wall
You and me burning matches
Lifting latches
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
You and I have memories
Longer than the road that stretches out ahead
Two of us wearing raincoats
Standing so low in the sun
You and me chasing paper
Getting nowhere
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home
~ Lennon - McCartney (The Beatles)
If you listened/watched the linked video, it was a version of the song performed by Aimee Mann and Michael Penn for the movie I Am Sam. Why? Because I like Aimee Mann. And I recall liking that movie, although I could probably watch it again, and it would all be new to me. The Beatles' version of the song appears on 1970's Let It Be.
While you are reading this, my daughter Jenna and I are probably still driving north on I-95, the first leg of our trip back to New Jersey. Jenna has been living and teaching on Eleuthera in the Bahamas for the last year, but she is moving on to her next adventure (whatever that may be . . . stay tuned). Our drive today is not long, maybe about five hours, but we have a place to stay tonight, so we'll take it. Jenna has a literary magazine and some GRE cards to study on the drive, and I will be listening to music. Interspersed between songs and chapters will be conversation. But mostly, I expect it to be laid back, "Sunday driving," if you will.
Jenna and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out ahead. My little girl was ten when her father was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. She was at that awkward, in-between age, unable to fully grasp or respond to what was going on around her. She'd just turned 14 when the inevitable dying began, and her Christmas that year became a side note to sadness and grieving and making her contribution to a memorial service for her daddy.
One month later, now in high school, she learned to swim the butterfly to secure a place on the school's swim team. And it's been one accomplishment after another ever since. At 29, she has a resume that inspires awe, but she hasn't slowed down a bit. I'm not sure where her next adventure will be but I expect it to be in some distant land, doing something that benefits humanity.
But for now, she and I are going home, a place that we both love dearly. Together, we'll tend the garden, spend our evenings on the front porch swings, identify bird calls, and listen to the coyotes howl at night. We'll reminisce about the life we used to have in that home, but know that there's a large world out there, just waiting for us to explore.
And with any luck at all, our adventures will lead us home again, at least in our hearts.
 |
| The Two of Us |
No comments:
Post a Comment