My son and I left at 5 this morning to head back to Seward. For the first two hours he fell back asleep. I had the Peace album playing by Bethel Music. I wanted it to be like lullaby songs where he felt safe and nestled under his blankets. You get those moments as a parent where you start to think, “Okay, at some point you’re going to have to know what it’s like to endure discomfort, to go the extra mile for somebody else.”

But today didn’t have to be that day. We stopped probably 3-4 times to stretch our legs, go to the bathroom, grab a snack, and fill up the gas tank. We picked up something for lunch in Lincoln and had to stop by Walmart to look for a Garmin watch charger and also a phone one. I ate my lunch in his room and didn’t finish it all, but didn’t offer him the rest. There were only one or two bites left and by then it everything was falling apart and spilling out of the hamburger bun. I crumpled up the garbage and asked him where he’s supposed to take all his room trash. I guess they have a dumpster.

And no I wasn’t going to offer to take all the boxes or hunt down a vacuum from the cleaning closet. I had already suggested on one of the last trips that they just bring our vacuum along, run it real quick before leaving, and then bring it back home. I stood up and felt the tears starting to come. He stood up. I gave him a hug. I walked to the door. Love you, I barely said. Love you too, he said, then I walked away and left.