#1 Dad

This afternoon, I put my dad on the shuttle back to Seattle for his flight. On my drive back to the craphole, I fought back tears. After arriving, I managed to wallow in my own homesickness for a little while. Holy shit, I was one step away from watching "Of Mice and Men." That would've been happy-go-lucky. Anywho, it made me reflect on the past week.

On our cross-country drive, we were listening to The Moth podcast. A woman was telling a story about her mother and made the comment that "parents are so much more forgiving of their children than children are of their parents." It stuck with me and made (makes) me want to be a better son, to be more patient with them, and the like because no matter how old you get, you're always their child and, if you're lucky, the beneficiary of their unconditional love.

At this point in my life, I've lived away from home for as long as I ever lived at home. Since I left for college, this road trip has been the longest time me and dad have spent together by ourselves. It was a pretty fun drive, I must say. It was pretty damned cool seeing dad excited, like a little kid on a family vacation drive. If I had a dollar for every time he called my name and pointed to something he saw on the freeway, I'd be a rich man. It's nice to see your folks full of wonder.

Checking out St. Louis from the arch.

Snapping shots of the "fireball dropping out of the sky."

Studying the roadside, getting ready to point out something.

I suspect that, in part, this trip was something that Dad really wanted to do as an adventure. I also suspect that the equally important reason was that he was the family ambassador sent by Mom to come with me on this journey, to lay eyes on me and this strange new town so many miles away, and to once again turn me loose to the world.

I am lucky.