The odometer just turned 89,000 miles and she thought about how all those miles had kept her away from home. She had not been present for so many events and milestones in her family’s life, she had lost track of what she had missed.
Today she was headed off to teach another alphabet class in some town, Maine. As she watched the mile markers roll past on the interstate, she wondered how the plans for her daughter’s wedding were coming. They had shared numerous phone calls and texts over the planning, but she had yet to see her and congratulate her in person since the engagement over a month ago. Even the news the impending nuptials had been delivered via phone, while she had been in Ohio for yet another conference.
As she pulled out of the gas station her mind was trying to organize the class she was about to teach but images of her grandchildren kept overtaking her thoughts. Stephen was 10, Dawson was 3 and she had missed so many highlights. Stephen had been picked for the all star baseball team for the last two years and she had been to see one inning of him playing on her way through to teach yet again. She was a stranger called Mimi to Dawson, as most of his contact with her had been over the phone.
Technology had helped. Pictures were frequently exchanged via e-mail, as were copies of school papers. Social networking had allowed her to send frequent messages to her daughter and oldest grandson. Texts were exchanged on a daily basis, sometimes hourly. Skype permitted her to see them while they related a special event, but it was still not the same as in the flesh contact.
She had never had the intention of becoming so physically disconnected from her family; it had just sort of encroached its way in. She loved her career, she knew this is what she was meant for, what she didn’t know was how to make it balance with her daughter and grandchildren who she also loved immensely. She rationalized that if she lived across the country her relationship with them would be no different than it is now. Then the guilt would kick in, reminding her she only lived 2 hours not a continent away.
Many nights she would lay awake and try to figure her schedule so that she could make it at least once a week to see her family. Inevitably though, her best laid plans fell apart. This instructor was sick, this service needed this class right now, it was always something it seemed.
It seemed like for the last ten years her life had been spent traveling to someplace other than home. Her career had blossomed with every mile, but her personal life had suffered immensely. As much as she had tried to rectify the problem, she still had not figured out the best answer to the problem and wasn’t sure short of quitting work, she ever would.
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These last two were posted about 90 minutes apart, so, for the sake of argument I'm assuming they were both written at the same session. If so, it's a pleasure to see the different approaches in action and the different--but equally effective tones you give each piece.
ReplyDeleteMost obvious is the first person/third person difference. Interstingly, the first person piece is the 'happy' piece, while the third person is somber.
Maybe it's my natural inclination showing itself or my indifference to the lottery and the feelings it's supposed to get one to imagine; or maybe it's because I'm a teacher too; or maybe it's because I tend to admire pieces that are really about nothing very much like this one (but do so much with 'nothing'!)--but the somber one is my favorite of the two.
I had the driving piece about half finished, when I came up with the lottery idea. I have to say I was very pleased with myself to have written two such completely different essays and have them posted in an hour and a half.
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