The Drive

Sometimes I take the weekly drive into work for granted.  It’s approximately 10.4 miles door to door from my house to USAA.  However, along this narrow construction-ridden stretch of I-10, I sit in bumper to bumper traffic with my fellow North SA/Boerne friends dragging through the morning commute with me.  Morning commutes are double-edged.  The turn of the sun each day brings forward a new opportunity, a new day, a new chance to be that person we said we were going to be on Sunday.  That is exciting.  At the same time, moving a family of 5 out of bed into a physical and mental state to be ready for a full day of school and work can be a stressful situation.  My commute has been blessed with the deafening silence of two middle schoolers who absolutely loath having to wake up before 6:30AM, yet do not wish to ride the bus to school.  As we get into the truck, usually on the edge of an emotional explosion, they plug into the matrix (air pods/iPhone) while I annoyingly try and talk to them about the day, the week and what’s hot on their mind.  They usually are not mentally ready to engage in such parental prattling, so I usually let them be, turn up the Joe Rogan PodCast and think about my day and what lies ahead at 9800 Fredericksburg Road. 

In all of this strategic emotional balancing, I anchor on a thought.  How lucky I am to be sitting here driving these kids to school?  How lucky they are?  How lucky we are?  Sure, idealistically I’d like to have a deep conversation with the two of them and have them tell me about all their friends and all the girls that they are interested in.   I also know, that my time with them is enough in this moment.  The road silence, the consistency of the traffic, the smell of my coffee and cologne, the podcasts and music I listen to.  They hear it all.  Maybe one day, they will pick their head up and say … Hey my Dad used to play that song.  Or Hey, I know that Pod Cast/song, my dad used to listen to it.  Either way, I just want them to have this space with me.  This time to just be.  I cherish this time we get to spend together every morning.  Soon, that time will be gone.  My influence is steady as the engine powering my Tundra.  The older they get, the harder being a father is.  They are dynamic, they are smart, they are becoming their own persons.  My dad always says, “Mijo, just keep showing up.  Keep loving them”.  My love for my boys has grown from a fatherly adoration of two little boys to a fatherly admiration of two growing young men and the beautiful life they live along the path that Jessica and I have cleared out for them.  This drive is important, I know it is.  It’s one of those things you just do, well because it’s part of the life routine.  However, there is so much more in this drive that I know I’m getting to experience first hand.  At the end of the day, when all is said and done, it’s the little subtle nuanced conversations, interactions and time spent together that creates a relationship.  It’s the details in the day, the seemingly unimportant details of the day that create a shared consciousness that we remember 10, 20, 30 years from now.  I turn 40 in April and I’m extremely excited about the next 10 years of my life.  My heightened awareness of the beauty in my life is a gift that I look forward to waking up to each and every day.  I’m off this week, but starting next Monday I’m looking forward to the “drive” more than ever.  Let’s have an amazing 2020!