Angels and Potholes

The glare of oncoming traffic burned my eyes. It was 4 a.m. So early even the sun refused to wake up. I rubbed the tiredness beneath my eyelids just enough to make my mascara flake and leave black smudges. Beyond the windshield snow fell in diagonal generosity. As a result, slush-covered roads withheld their secrets. Gaping potholes, non-existent lines, and lanes left only to the imagination… it was every driver for him, or her, self. Why was I out in this frozen nightmare you ask?

My husband had an early flight to North Carolina, and although the official reason was to see his son and family, I knew he was a winter-from-hell refugee. Mother Nature decided to punish him for his betrayal and dumped snow on us for two- straight days prior to his departure. In what can only be considered a mood-swing moment, I offered to drop him off at the airport.

Husband: “Any chance you want to drive me to the airport—the one that is about sixty miles away—during a winter storm?”

Me, in menopausal hormonal surge: “Sure! That sounds like an adventure. Woohoo. Can we get up at 3:30 a.m. just so it’s extra cold?”

Husband, backing away slightly before carefully handing me chocolate: “Yes Baby. Ummm, you have a strange light in your eyes. Here…have a little sweet brown medicine until the moment passes. There you go. There you go…except maybe take the wrapper off next time.”

While the drive was intense, I was delighted we arrived at the airport in plenty of time to have him stand in line to drop his suitcase and yet another line to go through security. We kissed our goodbyes before I headed back into the black sky and white snow.

Alone, I felt as though I was in a bumper car world. So many near misses as vehicles hurtled past me at unreasonable speeds and potholes punctured the highway. I made it home in time to see the sun rubbing its eyes and leaving grey cloud smudges. A huge sense of relief and gratitude filled me as I pulled back into the garage.

“Is it possible to write thank you notes to guardian angels?” I wondered.

“If so, I’m not sure I have enough paper or words for their service this morning.”