Saturday, March 26, 2011
Fast forwarding 25 years, my husband and I got permission from our children yesterday to go on our own road trip. After being convinced that our 11 and 15 year old would be fine on their own for one night, we left after work yesterday to travel a few hours north to attend our college girl's newest theater performance.
I felt almost giddy jumping into our car as we left work. Alone on the highway we easily launched into a variety of conversations. It felt great to know we could talk without an interruption from our usual backseat companions. We went to dinner, and killed some time at a bookstore before the play. As we left the bookstore, my husband reached over and grabbed my hand. It was a small and a rather common gesture between us but for some reason, perhaps knowing we were "running away from home" for the night, I felt 15 years old again.
After the show and after a short visit with our daughter, we weren't sure whether we were going to try to head back home immediately or if we'd find a hotel room for the night and head home in the morning. We got on the road and drove for about an hour. Then we decided that yes, we'd go stay overnight. We felt a little strange leaving our children home alone for the night, but we were tired and the thought of driving another 90 minutes did not seem to be a wise idea.