A week ago, we were waking, preparing for a big day of races. A day later, we were up and shaking the weariness from our mind and body. My son and I had to leave and head back for home. We had to be fully awake and mindful for the long drive back. Looking out the windows of the camper we saw the morning was itself in no hurry to awaken. The campground tucked away in a blanket of fog, giving everything that surreal appearance. Every once in a while we would watch as the mammoth campers pulled by equally large pickup trucks moved out and away. The camping spots around us being vacated one by one. Finally my son began moving about, finally he was mentally and physically prepared for the journey.
I watched and helped as I could. We made sure everything was put away, everything was safe from vibrating and bouncing to the floor. All the cables and hookups were secure. Our area was clean and trash disposed of properly. Once all was done, we got into his car and with one move, that engine roared to life. Gentle pressure on the gas petal and we moved forward without issue. Slowly we made our way to the entrance and beyond. We were headed for home.
We only stopped once for fuel for the car, then returned to the highway. It was busy in places, almost barren of traffic in others. We passed an accident that was on the far side of the road that had traffic stopped and backed up for what appeared to be miles. An ambulance was trying to get past the blockage. I was watching the signs, watching for the one telling how many miles left. I wanted to be home.
At one point, I saw a sign for the road I thought my son was going to take, but he passed it by. In only a few moments I saw the reason. When I could see the actual road, it was not a highway, it was a parking lot. No one was moving, no one was getting onto that road and the entrance was also backed up and stopped. Even though the map lady warned him of the accident, she had said it was still the fast route. We went a different way, a way that I knew, a way that was easing us home, just a bit slower but nearly void of traffic.
When we finally pulled into the drive and stood up from a now stilled car, the dogs were joyfully welcoming us home. Our trip home had been quiet, we were home, we were safe. It had been an uneventful ride back.
I like to think my life is a lot like that, uneventful and quiet. Except when my son has me off on adventure, though even those are mostly tame in nature. Having a life filled with one excitement after the other may be all grand and good for some, for me it would be tiring. I like the quiet. I like the calm and the near boring. There are days when I see what others are doing, and I feel that twinge of envy, then it fades and disappears. Maybe later, maybe another day, I will want to join in and be a part of something. Right now, the uneventful is fine. Right now, I can settle my mind and relax. Right now, I can take care of my parents, I can take care of me. I can be content in who, what, and where I am. I’ve come a long way in this life. I’ve dealt with much, lived through much, watched people I love leave. I’m ready and welcoming the uneventful.