Beginnings and Endings

Friday, November 19, 1993, one week before Thanksgiving

"Mom, how much longer till we see Daddy?"

I wished I knew the truth to that question myself. Not wanting to expose my own uncertainty I estimated a reasonable number, "Maybe two hours or so." Wayne had given me explicit directions: Take Interstate 90 East from Buffalo to Albany. Follow the sign that says Montreal; it will take you toward Troy, NY. This seemed illogical to me – it seemed as if I would be heading north, when I wanted to go east. Of course, I have lost count of all the times I've discovered longer ways to get someplace. Trust me, I remembered Wayne responding to my doubtful remark: Are you sure that is the right direction? I didn't want to make any mistakes this late in the day. The daylight hours were almost gone. I didn't want to be stranded in the dark with two kids and two pets in this unrelenting rain on some rural route in Vermont.

"How long is two hours?" our nearly five-year old asked.

"That's about four Scooby-Doo shows long," I answered. Apparently that satisfied him.

This trip became more of a white-knuckle drive as I continued. My wipers streaked the glass as I leaned forward, trying to focus through a small, clear patch. God, could this road get any more narrow and winding? I can't see more than ten yards in front of me because of the turns. Later I felt terror as I passed a driveway that extended up the side of the hill perhaps 500 feet. The sign near the driveway read, "Runaway truck lane." What in the world is this? Ohmigod, I hope I don't pass any truckers. I don't want them to lose control and careen into us. I wasn't familiar with any of the sights on the way, so I had no idea how much longer it would take us. Three white-tailed deer darted across the road, causing the cars heading the other direction to stop abruptly and swerve into our lane. I had to swing as far right as possible, even though there was no shoulder. My heart was pounding through my chest. How are the kids? I looked in the backseat; to my amazement they were both asleep. Figures they would be sleeping during the excitement. Finally a road sign: Brattleboro 18 miles.

* * *

I saw our nine-year old sedan enter at the security gate. I grabbed my jacket and hurried down to greet my family. At last, no more commuting on the weekends. I waved to Martine. After she parked the car the kids jumped out yelling, "Daddy, Daddy!" We embraced in a three-person hug. Martine placed a leash on BJ and joined us.

"It feels so good to be here finally," she said as she looked into my eyes. "The first thing we need to do is find another way between here and your parents' home in Buffalo. That's some ride."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Don't worry, I'll fill you in later," she said. "For now, can we find a place to eat, we're starving!"

While we ate our late dinner I listened as my family recalled the events prior to the move. "My friends had a farewell party for me at school, Dad," said Marisa, as she shared the fun memories and how sad it was to say good-bye.

"We'll make trips to Buffalo to see family and we'll see your friends when we return," I said, hoping to alleviate her concerns of not seeing her second-grade class again. "We'll probably visit during your Christmas break ... that isn't too far away," I added.

"It was hard to say good-bye," Martine said. "I remember all the dreams we had when we moved four years ago. It's so odd. Life doesn't always go the way you plan."

"We're fortunate how things came together," I responded. "It could be worse."

Later we all slept together on a pallet that we spread out on the master bedroom floor. Our furniture would arrive the next day. The heater wasn't working properly, so we snuggled close together to try to stay warm. Sleep came easily for us all. At last, no more nights apart!

* * *

A week later, on a crisp New England fall morning, Wayne went to the back door. He paused, motioning, as he waved one hand to approach him while he kept his other hand near his lips to tell us not to make any noise. "Quick. Martine, bring the kids. Come quietly."

We tiptoed, wondering what was in our backyard. BJ had been a great watchdog when we lived in New York; his senses were more alert in his younger days. Once we thought that he was barking for no reason at all. After carefully peering through the windows, we discovered what had caused him to sound out. In our suburban yard were a couple of rabbits crossing through. I figured Wayne wanted to show us similar garden guests at our new home.

The kids and I looked out. "Wow ... how many do you think there are?" I asked.

"Dad, what are those things?"

"Those are wild turkeys. They look different from the ones you drew for Thanksgiving, don't they?"

"They are funny looking," said our newly turned five-year old.

"There must be a flock of 50 turkeys. What do you think?" I asked Wayne.

"Earlier there had been more. Look into the woods; some of them are trailing off." Soon our morning spectacle was followed with our unpacking boxes, putting away dishes and hanging pictures in our new home.

* * *

Later in the day, neighbors stopped by to introduce themselves. Some of our "nearest" neighbors lived a half-mile away. Our neighbors were squeezed so close to us when we lived in the suburbs. Maybe a dozen – if that many – homes stretched along the mile of our home. Kathy welcomed us with brownies. Sara greeted us, carrying a plate of cookies. "We saw the movers unload Little Tikes toys, so we were glad a family bought the house. I have one child and I have to drive him to the home of the nearest kid his age."

"I guess my two kids have each other, good times and bad. How old is your son?"

I noticed a man walking with a small, blond, curly-haired boy, heading towards our home. Sara said, "Our neighborhood had only a few kids that were Jack's age. Shortly before you moved in your next-door neighbor adopted an eight-year old boy. Three new children – especially younger kids – is a significant increase in this area." Sara introduced our family to her husband and son. We visited for a while and exchanged phone numbers before they headed home. Sara added, "Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything."

Another neighbor drove over. I went...