[thankful]

My dad picked me up from Hopkins on Tuesday night without a word. He took my suitcase full of books and deposited it in the trunk, then calmly walked back the drivers seat while reunions took place all around me - the freshman from Bainbridge who I had sat next to on the flight was taking turns hugging her parents, smiles and love swirling around the curbside pickup. But my parents don’t do the overly dramatized reunion hugs draped with exclamations of “Oh dear I have missed you!” I don’t think I could handle that from my dad – its only in normalcy and nonchalance that I can perceive genuine affection. My dad always says, you don’t have to bother with missing the people you love. You’ll always be able to pick up right where you left off. Good advice, that I am not always good at following.

I drop my purse in the passenger seat and switch on the radio. “I’m hungry.” My stomach grumbled. “Call your mom and tell her to microwave some food before we get home,” says dad as he rounds the entry ramp. As if I had never left. It was just another car ride with my dad on a typical Tuesday night, just another homecoming sandwiched between pockets of growing up, another few days of acting like my father’s daughter, in the passenger seat with my past and present racing past the foggy windows.