I meant to post this story last night. It's the anniversary of that picture.
My niece was having surgery. Kristy and Hector and their kids had just moved from their rented house to a new one about a half-hour away in North Carolina.
In fact, I helped them move into it, driving down for a long weekend with my mother and sister. I served as the driver of the U-Haul truck on a fairly warm (or even hot) March/April weekend.
But now, just three weeks later, it was time to make the drive again to North Carolina from New York.
My mother hadn't decided for sure if she was going. My job was to go back to NC and serve as babysitter for Evelyn, Eleanor, and Isabel for as long as needed, along with getting Kristy to and from the hospital, as she hadn't really made friends in the new neighborhood who could help out yet.
In a midweek conversation with my mother, I said, "The car leaves at 5:30 Saturday morning."
For the second trip in a row, Sean couldn't join me because he had school. But, this time, there was an extra wrinkle. Sean plays the saxophone, part of a dynamic band from John Jay High School. They've won awards at various competitions and, in this case, he would be taking part in one near Fredericksburg, Virginia.
Right on the path between Mahopac and Fayetteville.
Could I make it in time for the performance?
We were gone by 5:30. It was a quiet Saturday morning that allowed me to work my way out of New York with no traffic and no tolls. In fact, with a little creative driving, I "shunpiked" my way through New York, New Jersey, and Delaware without paying a toll until I drove through Baltimore.
The whole trip -- both ways -- cost $6.50 in tolls (if memory serves). That never happens.
I thought I would stop earlier to stretch my legs. I always push to make it at least to Delaware without stopping but the Nissan I was driving was getting great gas mileage. Plus my mother had fallen asleep and I was feeling good, so I just kept going.
Maybe we could actually get to the concert, at Courtland High School near Spotsylvania, VA but I kept feeling like I simply didn't leave earlier enough.
And then the traffic issues began.
The weather was rainy and, south of Baltimore, I found a line of brake lights.
Damn you, Baltimore-Washington Parkway. Damn you, Rob, for not just staying on Interstate 95.
I thought a Saturday morning wouldn't be problematic. There were no warnings.
The traffic slowed me up enough that I knew there was just no way to make the concert.
I eventually worked the car to the Capital Beltway, across the Potomac, and into Virginia.
Keep in mind I hadn't stopped since grabbing breakfast at a deli right near home.
Finally, after six hours, and deciding that we had missed the concert, I gave up and pulled off near Fredericksburg to gas up and stretch at Wawa.
A few minutes later, we were back in the car. We climbed back onto 95 south and the pull of being a father was too much.
"I think I'm going to take a stab at driving to that school," I said. Mom was fine with it, as she always is.
In classic Rob fashion, allow me to say I've never been anywhere near Courtland High School. I figured I'd find it. Of course, we're all armed with a GPS in this era anyway.
I used Exit 126 and took US Route 1. I turned right on Spotsylvania Pkwy.
I drove. I tried not to speed. No point in getting a ticket for nothing.
I found the school. Now, there had to be a simple way to drive in and find...something, right?
Nope. I had to find a place to turn around. Then sit at a traffic light.
Tick...tick...tick.
Finally, I found an entrance. I made my way in.
A moment later, I spotted a few buses that looked like they were from out-of-town. Some kids were congregating.
Across a parking lot, a solid football field or more away, I spotted a familiar shape.
Got him.
"That's my son," I said. "I know that body language from anywhere."
I pulled up closer.
"SEAN!" I yelled.
He trotted over.
"Wow," he said. "You made it."
I got out and stood with him for a few minutes. He said they played well and was confident they would get a trophy. But, now he was looking forward to getting to Kings Dominion for a day of amusement park fun before heading to dinner at Golden Corral (yes, he was in heaven) and staying at a hotel in Richmond.
I was so proud and so happy that missing the concert was almost irrelevant. Just the fact that I got to see him in this spot for even a few minutes meant the world to me and, shockingly, I could tell it meant something to him also.
It's the thought that counts and he knew I tried hard.
Our time together was short but I remembered to take my phone out.
"A selfie?" he asked.
You bet.
His band won the competition but he got on only one ride at Kings Dominion as basically everything closed down due to the rain. Still, he said they had a blast on the trip. It beat being home.
As much as I wanted to kidnap him and take him to North Carolina, I was thrilled to see him happy. That's all we can ask for our kids. I left with a bittersweet feeling but mostly overjoyed that I got to see him.
Mom and I had a lousy lunch south of Richmond before working out way to near Fayetteville, NC. The week -- surgery, babysitting, and everything else -- went off without a hitch. We were back in New York the following Sunday.
And that picture means the world to me.
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