By: Jeremy D. Wells
Carter County Times
I got caught foul this week. I thought I had time for an oil change I had scheduled on Thursday morning in Mt. Sterling before the snow hit. But I was wrong. The dealership took about twice as long as anticipated to change the oil, and the snow started two hours earlier than the meteorologists predicted.
So, by the time I left the dealership, the snow was already coming down steadily. Thankfully Porter Tires had just hooked me up with a new set of all-weather tires, so – keeping it slow and steady – I did fine on 64, though not everyone was so lucky. I passed several cars who had pulled off, or slid off, onto the shoulder or into the median. I passed one car that had failed to keep up their momentum, and as a result came to a dead stop about a quarter of the way up a small hill. A state police officer was parked in the road behind them, trying to help push the car to the shoulder. Because of the warning from his flashing lights I had plenty of time to get over without sacrificing any of my momentum and ending up in the same situation.
Still, by the time I made it to Morehead, I was skeptical of my ability to make it on home. After mulling it over a bit I was ready to risk it, but when I got talked to my partner on the telephone she didn’t recommend our normal route home. All the state routes were still in pretty rough shape, and the storm was just getting started. So, after talking it over, and considering alternate routes, we decided to play it safe, and I rented a hotel room in Morehead.
I’m not going to dwell on what a horrible experience that was (and it is a horrific tale in its own right).
Instead, I’m going to talk about how much I missed my family for the two days I ended up being away.
Once I left the hotel the next morning, I quickly realized the roads were still pretty rough. I was able to make it to my father-in-law’s house, along a state route that runs parallel to our road. But we live off of a county road, and those still hadn’t been touched.
So, after a supper of fried bologna and vegetable soup I turned in for my second night away from my family.
What you need to realize is, in the nearly three years since my son was born, I haven’t spent more than a single day away from him. I wasn’t prepared at all for how much I’d miss him.
He still sleeps with me and his mother, and though I often wish he’d move into his own bed and give us back some space, I missed falling asleep with his little arm draped over my chest. I missed waking up to his laughter and cuddles. I missed watching him play. I missed his sweet “thank you” after I fill his milk cup for him. I missed him, and his mommy.
So, though rising temperatures still hadn’t melted all the snow from our road or driveway, on Saturday morning I decided I was going to risk the drive home. It was slow, and laborious, and I took the longer – but flatter – route into our holler instead of attempting either of the routes that go over large hills. But I made it home safely. And my boy has been practically attached to my hip ever since.
I think he maybe missed his daddy a little bit, too.
Jeremy D. Wells can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org