Saturday, May 19, 2018

Changing Time Zones

Last week I drove to Indiana to pick up our oldest from his first year at college.  While I was driving, my youngest son served as co-pilot, offering me snacks, navigating the Waze app, teaching me Spanish, and generally keeping me focused and entertained at the same time.  It was a long drive.  We broke up the 680 mile drive by first driving to Youngstown, Ohio.  We left mid-afternoon on Thursday, before rush hour hit.  We were traveling west, tracking the path of the sun set.  The further we drove, the lighter it seemed to be.  Even by 8:00 the sun set still seemed to be far off.  The sun beckoned us on, assuring us of safety and hope and making it feel that it hadn't been six hours of driving in the car.  We had a nice cozy bed waiting for us somewhere - we just didn't know where. Thankfully the sun lit most of our trip no matter what time it was.
The next day we woke easily and drove the remaining 6 hours to South Bend.  We never crossed the time zone line between Eastern Daylight and Central Standard, that was a few miles away, but we were quite close. When we arrived on campus, Jay still had one exam to take.  The time slot was 4-6 pm - on a Friday night!  I know that is the last place a college kid wants to be on a Friday night and it was certainly the last place I wanted to be waiting around for him.  I was ready to head out again, to try to get a few hours under our belts so we wouldn't have the daunting drive all the way home on Saturday.  But the funny thing is, Jay wasn't ready to leave.  Even before he began his exam, he was suggesting he wouldn't be ready to go just yet.  He had friends to say goodbye to, things to pack (like everything), and places to wander around - just to capture one last time.  He did not want to leave - to change time zones.
Honestly I could see why.  Being back on a college campus and feeling the energy in the halls, the smiles, the hard slaps on the back, the high fist handshakes and man-hugs, the questions, the answers, the silliness, the laughter, the philosophical discussion that lasted until 3 in the morning, reminded me of when I existed in this time zone - one of nominal real-life responsibility, but incredible potential, where everyone you talked to might be your friend for life and every discussion you had might change your life.  That night we ate at a little restaurant on campus with Jay's friend. I was trying to be aware of the fact that they were both still soaking everything in, not ready to switch to talk of summer and summer jobs, but also not ready to discuss the hard exams they'd prepared for so long and so continually over the past few days and had survived.  So we made small talk and chatted about family stuff and funny stuff and I tried not pry into too much.  They wanted that extended daylight.  It was 9:00 at night by the time we ate, but that didn't matter.  They were not ready to switch time zones.
As I get closer to 50, I feel like there is a new time zone I'm approaching.  It's not just with my kids.  I try to have discussions with my kids about normal things, or what I think are normal things.  Then I hear that the arguments aren't just about alternative energy vs. geothermal, but which is better, wind or solar.  I hear a new lexicon that I'm not privy to, not because I'm ignorant but because I'm of a different age.  It happens everywhere.  I find myself proud that I know what "skins" are, even though it's from a video game.  I just happen to know this because of my boys being of a certain age.  Then I find that there is a new lexicon among all different sets of people, one per each generation perhaps.  I don't mind it - I love learning the new words, new ideas.  I'm super curious about it.  I want to know what sparks these changes in thinking.  But I don't know now if I'll ever keep up.  I might try but each shift creates its own thoughts, leaders, and followers.  Try as I might it's a lot to learn.
So we found a hotel room in South Bend that night.  We didn't leave until 10:00 the next morning.  We luckily made it home in less than 12 hours.  We weren't trailed by the sunset, we lost daylight as we drove, partly because of the rain that was following us too.  We made it home, back to a familiar  zone.  Back to a bed, a sky, and a light that was comforting.  Back home.

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