one hundred twenty-one

Look in my heart and let love keep us together.

Over the weekend, I was lucky enough to spend three hours in the car with my dad. It was without doubt the highlight of having a massive oil leak in my car and getting picked up and taken home for Easter.

We listened to oldie the whole way back, and Dad was a bit said to realize that they were the songs he grew up with. I resisted making jokes about his pending 50th birthday. We rocked out, waited to long for coffee in the McDonald's drive-through, talked about beer, talked about the coming year and got a bit teary-eyed talking about the wedding. (Ok, I did. He will. You just wait.)

When Captain and Tennille came on, I imagined my family dancing at the wedding reception. I'm living for those moments now, when all of the build up turns into a day of happiness, a day where we can forget everything else– the money, the stress over invitations, the mess over inviting people.

There are days when the thought of leaving and not having my dad to drive me home or fix my car get overwhelming. I stop wanting to leave, start feeling like I can't. More frequently, I've been needing to remind myself that the drive back home with Dad felt so perfect because it doesn't happen very often, because it almost felt new and in that way reminded us how much we love each other.

So as the distance grows and shrinks and changes over the next year, just like C & T said, love will keep us together. I forget sometimes how lucky we are to live in this age, when being across the ocean is not only possible, but does not limit the ways that we can communicate.

The idea of distance have been playing with my mind a lot lately. France may be no different than living in Washington state, really... except for the cost of a ticket. But the e-mails will sound the same and the voice on the Skype line will sound the same and the coming home will feel the same.

Joe is attending AWP, a writing conference, in Denver this week. I had originally planned to join his carpool of University of Missouri students, then realized missing a week of school when I'm not even an creative writing student (yet?) was not my best decision.

Having him leave on Friday evening, pack and head even further West was strange. I know that it shouldn't be, that we'll talk on the phone just the same. I know that he's safe in a hotel with a thousand other writers. I know that we'll go together in other years, but they're something a bit uncomfortable about having him outside of my world. I can't picture Denver. I can't understand the mass of people at AWP. I don't know the people he's traveling with. I don't know if he's eating balance meals. He could be on the moon.

My family has been living with distance, a small one (1.5 hours), for four years. My new family, with Joe, has been living with a solid distance for two years. We're getting good at this. So if absence can make the heart grow fonder, then absence and nicely scheduled visits and good communication can make some really amazing memories and a new kind of family dependence.

Ballroom Blitz also played and we both about went crazy. Despite the dancing, we stayed on the road... but now this song keeps finding its way into my foot and making it bounce through class. I'd never heard it, and I worry that you haven't either.