We had been quarantining for a few weeks at this point and,
quite frankly, were going stir crazy. At the time we lived in a 1000 sq
foot house with an unfinished basement which was my port in the storm. Carol
had the upstairs, Ben had his room, and I had the cold unfinished basement with
a dilapidated futon, my PS4, and a remote control to adjust the volume on the
TV depending on the cycles of the water heater, furnace, and washer and dryer
which were also in close proximity. The experience wasn’t as awful as it sounds
but when Ben started to get the Jack Torrance look in his eyes, I jumped at the
opportunity to get him out of the house and go for a drive. But this isn’t
about my basement. This is about a tree.
Rather than drive along the normal routes I decided that in
order to get the full effect of our get-out-of-the-house drive (and give Carol
some much needed space) we should get lost. I had my phone handy in case we got
too lost, but I decided that I would just drive to a certain point and have Ben
pick the direction we would or wouldn’t turn. At every intersection I would ask
“right, left, or straight” and he would pick accordingly. At the onset we were
simply turning onto roads and highways that we recognized but after a while,
the street names became unfamiliar. Well-marked road signs soon became faded
and set deeper back from the road. We were approaching the agricultural section
of our area and the roads greeted us at far less regularity than before. Gone were Main St and Penny Lane only to be replaced
by Route numbers and roads with no name at all. But while this is kind of about
roads, it’s more about a tree.
A quick glance at my watch told me it was a little after
four o clock. The sky was overcast that day with a spot of rain here and there.
Our drive was mostly dry, but the sun never came out from behind the dark wall
of clouds. It was the grey of January overstaying its welcome into the days of
late March and even without the sense that the world was percolating with disease
I would have been despondent regardless as my mood generally reflects the sky
outside. But this isn’t about the time, the weather, or my moods. This is about
a tree.
As we continued our journey, we ended up on a country road
with a farmhouse tucked back from the pavement every mile or so. In the empty
spaces was nothing but fields. It was still early enough in the season where nothing
was tilled or planted. The weather had been too cold to get an early start for
the farmers so except for the houses and accompanying barns there was nothing
to look at but empty fields and the grey sky. Those that live in the Midwest
know this view well. It’s engrained in the very fibers of our being. The smell
of a still lingering winter coupled with a sunless sky and nothingness before
my eyes is something I will never not be able to close my eyes and experience
as if it were happening in real time. It’s cold and lonely, but I can recreate
that in my mind as much as I can recreate a 102 degree with 98% humidity day. It’s
what we know. But this is about a tree.
While staring out at this unfamiliar yet all-too-familiar
road in front me and talking to Ben about whatever game he was playing (Kingdom
Hearts) or show he was binge watching at
the time (The Simpsons – all 30 seasons) I was really enjoying my time. I don’t
take the time as often as I should to talk to Ben. Sure, I talk to him, but it’s
usually followed by orders or questions. “How was your day? Did you practice
your piano? Oh, you won the spelling bee? Great job. Did you remember to empty the
dishwasher? That’s great that you finally beat that game. Go get ready for bed.”
I don’t try to be dismissive but due to my own communication shortcomings I
find that I often am. He deserves better. Carol deserves better. Most people I
talk to deserve better, but I am just a horrible conversationalist and I’m not
sure what to do about that at this point in my life. So, when Ben and I take
these drives I try to make sure that I really listen to him, ask follow up questions,
and try not to lecture. Something I need to learn is that not everything in his
life needs to be a lesson. Sometimes things are just funny. Sometimes things
just happen without fault. Sometimes you’re just 12 (now 13) and shit happens.
He’s a kid and a really damn good one at that. But enough about that. This is
about a tree.
By this point we were good and lost. I had an inkling of an idea of where we were,
but my natural navigation skills are limited so me thinking we were some place
really means nothing. Ben and I laughed about how lost we were. There was nothing
around us but those farmhouses dotting every mile or so of the road and fields
filling the empty spaces in between. We continued our talk which ranged from video
games, to gaming consoles, to his classmates, to his friends, to me bugging him
about girls, to our family, to music (he loves music as much as I do) and what
he believed in. To him it was just chatter. To me, I was getting to know my
little boy who was not so little anymore. Yes, there were some life lessons
sprinkled into my conversation but that’s my duty as a father. I’m reminded of
something my father told me while we were tilling up my entire backyard years
ago. I’m paraphrasing but the lesson I got was: You need to be the dad in the
early years so that you can be friends in the later years. It’s a lesson I find
harder and harder to adhere to as Ben gets older but maybe now is the time when
I start loosening those reigns. Who knows? These kids don’t come with manuals
(not that I’d read it anyway).
We talked about the dogs and how happy he was that we adopted
the chihuahua (I wasn’t so sure at that point). We talked about where he wanted
to go to high school. I told him some stories about my youth that I threatened
him not to repeat to his mother. He laughed. We thought about stopping for ice cream,
but everything was closed which is a shame because we LOVE ice cream. Okay, I love
ice cream and I’ve trained the boy accordingly. We made another turn and then another
getting either further or closer to home. We didn’t know and didn’t care.
It was getting close to dinnertime by now, so I decided I
needed to try and find our way back home. The road we were on was straight as an
arrow and I knew that if we followed it we’d more than likely end up at the
intersection of one of two roads so I continued straight pretending that I was
clueless as to our whereabouts. Ben farted. We laughed. We talked about his
upcoming birthday and how it would be different. We talked about fast food and
which was the best. I think he farted again. I’m sure I laughed again. Eventually, we did in fact come out at the
road I expected us to come out on (though much further south than I anticipated)
and we made our way home. I pulled into the driveway, parked the truck, walked
into the house with my son, thanked him for the drive and told him I loved him, and went back down to the basement as he retreated
to his room. It was a great drive with a great kid. Carol sure is doing a great job with him.
Oh yeah, this was about a tree. I bet you're curious about that. I mean, the title is literally "This Is About A Tree." Well, along the way I saw a tree
in the middle of the field. It was majestic. I’d like to tell you what it looks
like or how I often think about it but I’m keeping that for me. For me and Ben. Certain things in life you need to hold on to and cherish just for yourself. After writing this I’m not
sure this was ever really about the tree anyway.
