One thousand miles.
Okay. To be more precise, one thousand three hundred and fifty-eight miles. That’s how many miles were between Hope and I. We were in Massachusetts. She was in Orlando. She was on a choir trip, singing at Disney World.
To be more accurate, she was on a trip to Disney World with her high school choir. About 30 minutes of the five-day trip were spent on a stage, singing in Downtown Disney. The other 98 percent of the time was spent visiting all of the Disney parks. However, it was a great opportunity and so we let her go.
We were on a vacation, celebrating out twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. We were gone the same five days, the longest we have been away from the kids just for fun. We wondered about spending the time, wondered about spending the money. However, it was a great opportunity as so we let ourselves go.
On Saturday morning, we went to the beach. I stood next to a friend, looking out at the ocean. Living in Indiana, that hardly ever happens from day to day. I mean, I stand next to friends occasionally, but I never stand on the Atlantic beach. Looking out, much and nothing went through my brain. And as my mind drifted past our children, I realized that one thousand three hundred and fifty-eight miles were between Hope and I.
Before the distance started to eat at me, I realized that at that moment she was standing on the beach at Cocoa Beach. At that moment she was looking at the same ocean, the same immenseness. And then my phone buzzed and she sent me a picture pretending to eat a crab that they had found on the beach.
And I laughed. We were connected by texts and pictures. We were connected by an odd sense of humor. We were connected by an ocean and a coastline. We were connected.
And so I sent out a picture of me to her and a prayer from me for her.
And then we laughed, Nancy and I and our friends, on the sand, by the ocean, as if one thousand three hundred and fifty-eight miles didn’t matter at all.
by Jon Swanson
Photo graciously provided by swansonfortwayne, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved
8 responses so far ↓
Stu Mark // Jun 2, 2008 at 2:43 pm
I live near the Pacific ocean, and my sister lives on the other side of the continent. She asks of me, and I comply: Whenever I am at the beach, I tell the ocean that my sister says hello.
jon // Jun 2, 2008 at 2:53 pm
I love the image I have of this happening, Stu. Thank you.
Nan // Jun 3, 2008 at 4:11 am
I agree that communications technology is wonderful! My eldest son loves the rainforest and goes on treks with researchers and foresters. They go way out of cell phone range, but there is one point where they climb over a ridge and get a cell signal from Tobago (our neighbour island). I wait for that call, and the sound of my son’s exhausted, exhilarated voice and his tales of adventures makes me so glad I let him go.
Megin Hatch // Jun 3, 2008 at 6:51 am
I had a comment of some consequence to leave here. but it vanished.
But that is a wonderful photo
jon // Jun 3, 2008 at 7:34 am
Nan -
I love that picture of expectant waiting and rejoicing.
Meg -
I, uh, forget.
Megin Hatch // Jun 3, 2008 at 11:15 am
I think it was something about how I’ve written many times about the need for moms- parent- to connect and grow and be separate from their children. A night away, a date with the spouse, a walk, a night or long weekend away, whether 8 miles or 1,358 miles. And sometimes it happens when the kids are tucked away for the night.
And I know Hope and Andrew are older and far more independent, but there is a lot to be said for the strength gained from being with good friends.
Even when the Punks are around, but even more so when the house is quiet. It’s rejuvenating.
Or something like that.
julie // Jun 3, 2008 at 12:20 pm
Jon,
I really enjoyed this post. It was great to read something that resonated with me, on a rainy day with both babies miraculously asleep.
Meaningless miles is a perfect title for your piece.
I just started a daily photo blog with two friends from Britain.
3 friends, 2 timezones, 1 ocean and 3884 miles.
I feel so connected to their everyday lives now.
Here’s a link if you’re interested:
http://breakfastforsupper.com/
julie
jon // Jun 3, 2008 at 7:07 pm
Meg - okay. That’s a good thing to have remembered. And it is interesting that a weekend away but not only alone is an okay thing.
Julie - i love it! What a wonderful way to see what’s happening, and to move backward from the image into the eyes and then into the heart of your friends.
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