There is something soft and quiet and peaceful about the day just before dawn. The air is cool and heavy with humidity. It muffles the sound of car doors and traffic. My voice is whispery because I’m not quite awake. The sunrise colors are soft pink, lavender and peach, muted by the heavy, wet air.
I want to take note of all these things, I record them for you, but also for me because midlife has definitely sharpened my sense of time. I want to capture this perfect morning for a roadtrip because I’m driving to pick my kids up from summer camp. And being half way through your life makes you accutely aware that there are only so many summers left for family roadtrips and summer camps and a house full of noisy neighborhood kids. Chances are I have decades of quiet mornings ahead of me, but that’s just it, they will all be quiet. This peace and quiet is special because it is the calm before the storm. In three hours the car will be full or camp gear and wet, smelly sneakers and two boys talking over each other to tell me about all the adventures they had during their week away from home.
Quiet time alone is precious to me now, but only because it is rare. I know I have maybe four or five summers left of alone time being golden, then it will be come the norm. Then I’ll wax poetic and get excited about each time one of my son’s comes to visit on a college break. So instead of grousing about having to get up so early I’m celebrating it. I packed grapes and french bread and iced coffee for breakfast.
I loaded my iphone with music and podcasts and driving directions. And I stopped along the way to take a few pictures, note my thoughts, capture the moment of being a mom on the last road trip of summer 2013.