A Grace

Sweaty and wilting after our

Walking and waiting in the

Humid Nashville air,

We all went for a welcome swim

Until we were cold and pruney.

Back in the room, we showered.

Boys watched a movie.

Phil, Caleb, and I slept.

By evening, though, I was restless.

The air conditioner would not turn off,

So even perpetually hot Phil was chilled.

The water in the wee wet bar sink trickled.

The food I’d brought was sufficient, but running low.

The route home showed few red zones,

And I figured . . . surely those will all clear

In the eight hours it takes us to drive back.

And to sleep in our own beds

Even for a few hours, from daybreak to midmorning. . . .

Phil was game. It was 7pm in Nashville.

We quickly packed up, and Phil headed down

To check out. The clerk was taken aback.

Before all Starbucks closed for the night,

We stopped for four grande lattes,

Enough to fuel the driver.

And we drove, hour after hour.

The rest areas were overflowing,

Cars parked even leading in, let alone out.

There were spots of construction.

There were places that were entirely stopped.

This is the reality of I-81, though,

As both Phil and I, driving at different times,

Have hit stops there.

The trip home took the same 9.5 hours

As the trip out.

We fell into bed

Gratefully.

I slept three hours and

Spent the rest of the day

Preparing for an out-of-town trip.

To bed by 9pm, I even got a

Good night’s sleep before the 3am alarm.

Such was the story,

And I liked the story.

Until I was talking to a friend.

Her son had gone south

To the center of totality.

Anticipating horrid traffic,

He, too, stayed until Tuesday.

Blithely headed home,

He was stopped by a crash

With fatality.

The six hour drive took fourteen.

Had we stuck to our original plan,

We would have hit that spot at precisely

The same time. The ideal eight hour drive

Would have taken sixteen or so.

I probably would have still

Made my flight,

But without a day to prepare,

With only a few hours.

And since I would have known that

We could have left the night before,

But didn’t . . . I would have had

A hard time

Forgiving myself.

This new story leaves me weak at the knees,

Overwhelmed by how narrowly

We missed having our happy story

Erased by a nightmarish car trip.

Thanks be to God.