The lanky 15-year-old somehow managed to be comfortable enough in the passenger seat of my van to fall asleep in approximately 2.5 seconds as we left the house at 3:30 a.m. yesterday. He slept soundly, oblivious to the snowy roads, the elk, the deer, the darkness, and the isolation.
I was, of course, not.
In a 2.5 hour stretch — over Lost Trail Pass and through the Big Hole Valley until the interstate — the only other vehicles on the road were two snow plows. People are taking the edict to stay home seriously.
Yesterday I could not.
And so I drove south with the sleeping teenager.
I was in Idaho when I got a video of Berkeley and Lincoln enjoying Easter. I could not watch it, of course, because I was driving.
Do you know I have seen Berkeley — and then also Lincoln -- at least once a month since they moved to Boise in October 2017? The pandemic is costing me my streak and all that comes with ongoing contact with young children.
The teenage grandson slept on.
After 430 miles we arrived at the designated meeting spot — a gas station parking lot. I gave virtual hugs to VERY Dear Son Tanner and his partner, and traded the teenager for a good-sized bottle of Purell.
Armed with a mask made by Elizabethanne, the teenager continued on his way to the Salt Lake City airport; he was safely home to his mother in California at about the time I crossed back over the Montana state line.
Choices have consequences.
That is why we have a pandemic — someone’s unfortunate choice unleashed a virus on the world.
The consequences of choice are also why I spent 14 hours driving across three states yesterday with a sleeping teenager, Dear Son and his partner left their home in a pandemic, and a masked teenager was in two airports and a plane in spite of the virus.
As I drove and considered all that, I reflected on the importance of trying to anticipate the potential impact of choice, and especially the impact of our choices on other people.
That is what you do when you drive almost 900 miles in a pandemic — you think.
At least that is what I do.