College Chauffeur

This past Saturday, I picked up my youngest brother from college and drove him home so he could go to my nephew's 1st birthday/our other brother's 30th birthday party (which incidentally he didn't make it to because he was busy digging our other brother out of a snow drift).  On Sunday, I returned him to his dorm.  It is more or less an hour an a half trip each direction.  Saturday was significantly longer due to crappy driving conditions thanks to a snow storm that just happened (as in it was supposed to be a clear sunny day, um no, I couldn't see the road for a while, I was just driving in the tracks of people who went before me, praying that whoever was in front of me had their headlights on because there was no way I was going to see them if they didn't).  It made for a bit of a crazy weekend because I worked a half day as well both Saturday and Sunday.  And went to said birthday party after work on Saturday.  And was invited, but just sent my men folk, to a Super Bowl party on Sunday.  But I didn't mind.  For the most part, I don't mind being the college chauffeur.  The exception is if I have one of my boys with me and they are not in the mood to travel.  This weekend, my mom or Jet watched the boys as I drove.  I was chauffeur for my sister as well until she got her own car.  My mom doesn't like driving, particularly highway driving.  And if she is alone in the car, even more so.  My dad passed away 2 months before my sister went to college.  He was my college chauffeur. 

There are several reasons I don't mind.  First being, I don't mind having the time to think.  Sometimes I'll listen to a book, sometimes to NPR, sometimes to music, but often times I don't listen to anything at all.  I like the quiet.  Then there is the leg of each trip I have my sibling with me.  Sometimes they sleep.  Sometimes we listen to music of their choosing (I'd much rather listen to my sister's than my brother's music).  And sometimes they talk.  And talk.  And talk.  I find out more about their life while I'm driving than at just about any other time.  For the first time on Sunday, I got to thinking about my dad, and what he felt about driving.  I never asked what he thought about it.  But as I thought about what I did on those trips with just the two of us, it was much the same.  Sometimes there was my music, sometimes I slept, and sometimes I talked to him in far more detail and substance than I typically did during that period of my life.  I'm suspicious that he too might not have minded those trips to pick me up.  At the time, I thought he did it more because my mom was so vocal about how she hated and didn't want to do the trips.  I wonder if my sister and brother will ever realize that I didn't and don't mind the trips.  That in someways I even relish them.  I have said that I don't mind driving them, that I look forward to the time I have in peace.  I left out how I look forward to the times they choose to talk, as I think that would have made my 18 year old brother not talk.  Or at least it sure would have made me if my dad had told me that.  I imagine, and hope, with time, they will realize that I truly do not mind.  That I'm not "just saying that", because at this point, I think that is what they feel.  Understandably, as my mother still is adamant and vocal about how much she hates doing it, and how hard it is for whoever (read me) that does it (I think my other brother gave 1 or 2 rides, my mother maybe 3 times).

Love isn't always said with didactic words.  Or shown with hugs or kisses.  But with rides, and listening to other's music, in being silent, and with listening.