Today I was driving home from an appointment in Denver. On this gorgeous, warm, early Fall afternoon I passed Mississippi Avenue and my heart grew heavy. Why? My mom and dad used to live minutes from here...I have driven this road hundreds of times in the 28 years that I have lived in Denver. Many times, in a rush to get somewhere much more important, I bypassed stopping in to see my parents, even though their desire to see me was always strong. Even so, I would always brush this off, thinking they were trying to guilt me into a visit or they needed something or what ever other dark motive I convinced myself they had in mind...
Today, as I drove, I would have given anything to pull off the highway and pop in for a quick visit. I thought back to all the times I grudgingly visited them in the past...
I imagined my mom in the kitchen and my dad sitting in his recliner, hazelnut coffee brewing in the kitchen. Mom would ask if I wanted a cup and I would state I already had my allotment for the day. She would ask if I had eaten or if I wanted a glass of her signature sweet tea. I'd tell her, no, I am cutting back on sugar and I already had breakfast, looking at the clock on the wall off and on, restless and eager to go.
"Well, sit down," she'd say. "I sure would love to go to Red Lobster soon. Maybe we could do a little shopping first, then go there for lunch. I sure would like to spend more time with you." Yeah, maybe we could do that soon, I would say.
We would then make our way out onto the deck where squirrels were gathering, waiting for my dad to hand-feed them peanuts. There we would sit, catching up on what my three kids were up to and where I would be going for my next trip. Mom would not miss the opportunity to say how she wished I were in town more. And I wouldn't miss the opportunity to view her words negatively, like they were judgment instead of longing.
All too quickly, I would need to go and they would ask if I could stay just a little bit longer. Oh, I would love to, but I have much more important things to do, I'd think to myself...In my head, just about anything was more important than spending time with my mom and dad. They were annoying and, besides, I'd have all the time in the World to spend with them.
In my mind, I erased this scenario from the past and re-wrote it, with how I now feel about them. I pictured myself doing the right thing, for the right reasons. I would pull off that highway, drive like mad to get to their house, excited to see the ones who gave me life and who loved me so. I'd walk inside and mom would greet with me a smile. She would grab her purse, kiss my dad good-bye and we would bound down the stairs, eager for what lie ahead.
Dad, of course, would say be careful and glance at me with his doubting look, like I was some sort of wanna be race car driver. Mom and I would shoot a knowing glance at one another, smile, then walk out the door, the sun hitting us in our faces. We would then jump in my car like two giddy teenage girls who had escaped their overbearing parents for a few hours, rolling the windows down and cranking up Taylor Swift.
Yes, this is what we would do if we had one more day...