Time will tell you two - Part one
Going to work
Part one
Inside the car
It wasn’t long after I got in the car that I felt instant regret. Driving in the car along the freeway, we stopped abruptly and leaped forward at seemingly the same speed. At times I thought it wouldn’t stop, but to my surprise, we didn’t hit a single car in those first few miles. I know, I know. No father should be trapped in a car with his seventeen-year-old daughter driving to work on a Monday morning in Southern California traffic, but here I am! Breathing, braking, still alive after the first five miles, and I am thinking, “How did I get myself here?” and “How do I get out of this?”
I didn’t teach her to drive. We would have never survived it. Her mother did most of that on Saturdays when I wasn’t around. I felt lucky that my daughter spoke to me at all! She hadn’t spoken a kind word to me since she was twelve. I don’t blame her really, I did a lot of things wrong in those early years of her life and most of them I either remember vividly or barely at all. Still, though, here we are driving to work together. Her first day of work, and I am absolutely scared. Scared of getting angry, blowing up, or simply scared that I will say the wrong thing, scared that she may finally see who I really am… A scared man who goes to work comes home and does it all again the next day like everyone else.
She seems so happy. Most of her day will be spent doing meaningless tasks like shredding paper, organizing magazine racks, and all the other things that nobody at the agency has time for or wants to do. But for now, at this moment as she drives us to work, she’s happy, and I am a little happy too. Who knows, she may love the job! She may think it’s awesome and apply for a position full-time! Or as she has planned, she will work at the agency until school starts in September and make her way to college with a few more dollars in her pocket for books and her dorm necessities.
This is only the beginning
She looked for other jobs at the end of the last school year. I really wanted her to find one too. She applied at some fast food places and really desired a local job that she obtained on her own. She has always been like that. She is just like her mother, and I couldn’t imagine her being any different. After an interview that didn’t go so well, I told her I would keep an ear out for any clients who might need help. Maybe one of those medical device clients? She said she would like that and I added “What about working at the agency?” and I think she said something like “Well, sure... That sounds okay. As long as they will pay me!” I assured her that she would be paid, but probably not much, considering that she would be doing some basic tasks that traditionally other interns would be doing. That’s “if” my bosses would like to have her there.
I asked my bosses that following weekend and they said “yes, “and she was soon scheduled to work at the agency for the summer.
We are nearly there, just a few more miles
It’s been almost twenty years of making this commute by myself. My children have only been to my place of work a handful of times in twenty years. You see, most days in corporate life, kids are rarely seen in a business environment. Occasionally, a kid will be granted access to mommy or daddy’s desk while they proceed to whisk them away for lunch with their parent’s better half. Dropping them back off at work only to be seen a few times later in life as other employees comment and say things like “Oh, how you’ve grown!”, “You were this high the last time I saw you.” Etc. But not my girl! She will make a daily appearance and be able to see all the inner workings of my day-to-day existence! The whole summer! Her. Whole. Summer. Man! That almost depresses me! She should be going to the beach or going on a long hike with her friends. Or camping! I hope she does at some point. We will see...
Back in traffic
I can’t imagine what she must be thinking as we putter along; “If he thinks he’s going to talk to me the whole way, he’s got another thing coming! I am not about to do it for two hours every day!” As traffic speeds up, she accelerates, and it seems like she isn’t going to stop as traffic comes to a halt. I tap my foot on the floorboard, looking for that invisible brake peddle and brace for impact as I say something excitedly in a panic like; “Can you slow down or at least not speed up when you see other people’s brake lights?” I am not nice when I say it, and she isn’t nice when she replies, “It’s my car!” she says. I have to stop myself here and pause and breathe because, of course, it’s “her” car! That’s what we told her when we purchased it, of course, it’s “her” car. I knew we wouldn’t make it the whole way without at least one outburst from one of us, looks like I win the “asshole pool” for today!
As I direct her to take the toll lanes, I am reminded that her mother doesn’t like me using the toll lanes, I share this fact, and my daughter quickly takes my wife’s side as she always does and says “They are expensive and if you didn’t take them so much I wouldn’t have to find extra money for college.” And all I can think is that if I didn’t take them, she wouldn’t be alive right now to go to college. I did come prepared for all this, I brought my headphones, filled up my podcasts, and made sure I have plenty of phone numbers on hand to call. So, seeing that these rides won’t be the most social parts of my day, I put my headphones in and find a good podcast to listen to, and push play.
Hello, my name is
We make it to the agency, I begin to show her around and introduce her to everyone she will be working with. Suddenly, the girl who was yelling “It’s my car!” fifteen minutes ago is shaking hands politely and smiling pleasantly. I am proud at that moment, though I know I had little to do with her ability to get along with just about anybody she wants to get along with. She is smart and strong, and that shows through her initial timid appearances. Again, I can’t help but notice that she is just like her mother, and maybe that’s where a lot of my pride comes from. I certainly married well, and that fact is reflected in these moments.
I see her a few times throughout the day and stop by her desk to embarrass her a little. It comes with the territory, what can I say! The conversation is lite, and hopefully, I didn’t embarrass her too much. Her first day of work is done, and just like that! Poof! Gone in an instant! We pack up and head home, and I am quite a bit curious about how her day went, and if she liked it. I ask, “Did you like it?” She says, “Sure. I liked it!” She doesn’t sound too excited, but it was spoken with enough energy to let me know that she would like to do it again tomorrow.
“Looking back, I am happy that I never followed through with anything I started. Today, I am just glad to be in the car with my oldest daughter once again. ”
Sippy-cups and Stinky
She wants to marry me when she grows up. My little girl has said this to me many times, and my wife loves telling the neighbors this fact. My four-year-old daughter wants to marry me, and my heart couldn’t feel any bigger. Today, we are driving to her first day of school, and I can see that she is scared, but just a little. She asks, “Will I have friends there?” and I say, “Of course you will, there are lots of types of friends. You’ll see.” She goes back to looking out the window while she holds her “stinky” (our pet name for her baby blanket) tightly and reaches for her sippy-cup and takes a drink. We drive on and through a town where I grew up. A lot of memories here, and they are hard to process. We make our way off the freeway and onto her school.
She is so excited, and I am a bit scared myself. You see, I never do these things. It’s always my wife who does this sort of stuff. I don’t feel that I am good at it, not at all! I never know how to act or even think in these situations, and I think for most dads, it’s just like that. Always fumbling with things; “Leave the blanket? Take the blanket? Sippy-cup in the bag? Lunch? Did we bring lunch? Do we buy lunch? Jacket? Does she need a jacket? Did we bring a jacket? Does she even own a jacket?”
I check the backpack that my wife packed, and it does, in fact, contain a lunch and a change of clothes in case she has an “accident.” I unbuckle her seatbelt and get her out of the car. She is looking up at the bright green colored building, looking around with her short hair trailing after each turn. She is excited, for sure! I am almost in tears. My first child is going to be attending school and will no longer be with her grandmother. She will be leaving the safety of her family and begin her education. It’s a big moment for sure, and I am so happy, but still a little scared she won’t like it. Maybe I am transposing too much of my own childhood into this moment? Perhaps I am afraid also because I don’t ever want her to experience her schooling the way I did? Maybe I just need to relax! I know she is in good hands. My wife had worked here before we got married, and my stepson also went here when he was young. It’s a good place, and she will be taken care of. There really is no need to worry.
My wife wants a picture, of course, and I did bring the camera! Lucky me! I actually remembered the camera! I gather my daughter and her things, and we make our way to the steps. She is asking questions, and I am distracted with getting the camera on and putting her on the steps for the best pose, I feel so hurried even though there is plenty of time. I get the shot, and we make our way inside. I have specific instructions from my wife on where to put the extra clothes and the backpack. I do as instructed, and I sign my daughter in. There is a protocol you know.
I walk her down the hallway. The other children are all gathered in a circle to start their day. One of the teachers greets us and shows my daughter where her “cubby” is and explains that she will be joining the other children in the circle when she is ready. I have been dreading this moment all morning! What if she won’t let go? What if she realizes that she is going to be left here all alone and is too scared to see me leave? I am prepared to stay here and call into my work and let them know I will be late if she needs me to stay. I kneel down to kiss her goodbye and say, “I love you, super-big-time!” and she says, “Love you super-big-time!” in such an adorable way, she always says it. I love the way she says that so much! She turns, and without skipping a beat, she hurries to join the other kids as they make room for her in the circle, and I am devastated!
Where’s the child that should be clinging to my ankles? Where’s the crying? The wailing and consoling? Where’s my little girl? My little “bride-to-be”? I look at the teacher, and it’s evident to her that I was expecting something much different than this “goodbye.” I shrug my shoulders, turn, and make my way back down the hall. In the most “made-for-movie” of moments, I actually look back to see if she is looking for me. I wait. Look. I wait. I look again. Nothing. She is intently watching and listening to the teacher and ready for school, and the only one that needs “consoling” is me.
