Togetherness

 We separated this holiday season. 

I took one kid and a carload of stuff.

He took the dog, and the pickup truck, and a trailer with an old rusted tractor riding on top, the kind that could weather an apocalypse and be in working order for any surviving organisms with opposable thumbs to use its mower deck and horsepower to rid their gardens of choking bittersweet.

“Working the tractor requires a little more finesse than that,” he’d say if he were reading over my shoulder right now. 

But he is not. 

There is nothing fair about my feelings. 

I downplay his lofty intentions on this family weekend to wax defensive about the straw I had pulled. It was my job to pick up all the humans after the workday had ended, whether at home or in Boston and drive them to Maine.

I was not looking forward to the task: the traffic, the crosswalks, and people leaning on car horns. I was not sure I could be the aggressive driver I needed to be to muscle my way through rush hour. I imagined we’d be driving for days. 

But I didn't say anything.

I just listened to him go on about wanting to get in at least one day’s work at his mom’s house before the rain and the rest of the family descended for a festive weekend.

His parting words gave me hope, though I feel guilty about wishing.

“Maybe I'll pick up the girl in the city on my way. That way it would be a straight shot for you.”

My heart skipped a beat. 

If you do that PLEASE take a picture. I want to see you pull up to the dorm towing a beat-up Massey Furguson through Bean Town. 

A truly Tom Sawyer move. Painting this fence would be so much fun!

He said he would keep me posted.

But he didn't. Staying vigilant about the sway of his heavy load was foremost in his mind.

I didn't hear a peep from the college student either. 

So I stalk them both using the surveillance powers of Find My Phone. His dot traveled steadily along the Mass Pike, while hers hovered over the address she proudly calls home. 

“I knew when your dot was in your dorm

and his dot was zooming up 290 that your twains would not meet. So I will be hunting down Huntington tomorrow.”

She blinked twice and narrowed her eyes.

WOops.

“How often do you use location services to find me,” she asked.

I had broken the first rule in cyberstalking: Talking about cyberstalking. Don’t let on that you know she was at El Jefe’s at midnight last Friday night. 

It’s not as if your intent was nefarious. 

You never intended to call her out for her choices. You just liked knowing her dot was out there somewhere that I could still see and feel connected. Even if only remotely so.

And of course, I imagined she got the churros and that were cooked to perfection with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar.

On this, I hope, we can come together.