SAM
life is a highway
Humming along to the tones of “Life is a Highway,” I turned onto Franklin Drive, smiling at the distant ocean glittering in the sun. It was a good day. Tomorrow I’d be back to the smell of coffee and the rattle and hiss of the machines, but my days off were all about quiet and kids. Which was a contradiction in terms, according to some of my colleagues. I disagreed.
The song faded out as I slid our passenger van into the closest parking spot to the kindergarten, a sense of calm settling in my bones just thinking about the cacophony of kids soon filling the car. That didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy these last precious minutes before the storm.
I took a deep breath and leaned back, letting Norah Jones’s dulcet tones wash over me while I went over my to-do list in my head. The shopping was done, the laundry was sorted, the chicken was marinating, and I’d even fixed a tear in Julian’s favorite sweater.
The doors of the kindergarten opened as my playlist shifted to “We Don’t Talk About Bruno.” Perfect timing. I hit repeat.
Masses of little ones swarmed across the playground,running, dancing, and jumping into the arms of their parents. I got out of the car when Ella—our bubbly bundle of a five-year-old in a purple mesh tutu—broke free from the crowd. It never stopped amazing me how all our kids had Evan’s eyes, his smile, and that alluring jut of his chin. Ella—like Charlie and Alex—had Bethany’s dark, springy curls and warm brown skin. She had more energy than the twins combined at that age.
Julian, too, would burst out of the doors, then bounce back and forth like a spring as he waited for Quinn, who always seemed to consider every step. How were they sixteen already? Where had the time gone?
“Coffee. Coffee!” Ella yelled when she finally spotted me, dragging her backpack along more than carrying it.
I cursed Evan and Bethany every single day for that. Between the twins and the young ones, Evan still hadn’t learned that whatever we said would come back to us tenfold. Though he still claimed it had been an accident, that barista had been too difficult for her to understand. She no longer thought my name was Coffee, but it stuck.
“Hey, bean. Had a good day?”
She dropped her backpack at my feet and twirled as I opened the door. “Miss said we’re reading about wild things tomorrow.”
Words tumbled out of her as she climbed into her seat like a released wind-up car—a relentless barrage of“Lois this”and“Rafi that”filling the car as I strapped her in. Her chatter always made my heart sing and left me little space to mull. I just smiled and nodded, keeping an eye on the other side of the parking lot, where Charlie and Alex would appear. She didn’t even notice when I set my playlist to stop repeating the Bruno song.
Cars drove off and new cars arrived, and Ella’s chatter was still going strong. I still started when she yelled, “There’s Alex!”
Curls bouncing on his head, he skipped ahead of Charlie but didn’t seem to hear Ella. At seven, he had that same farawayexpression in his eyes that made Evan’s brother seem old beyond his years as a kid. Charlie, ten and fully aware of her audience, shuffled more than strolled, arm-in-arm with her best friends, dragging her heels just enough to make a point.
I tried not to roll my eyes at her as I greeted Alex. “Hey, ace.”
“Hi, Pop,” he mumbled, lost in thought, not even looking up as he climbed into the car. Ella wouldn’t be ignored, though, and waved her hands in his face as she repeated his name until he gave her a quick hug and ruffled her hair. When he was this deep in thought, it always took him a moment to get his seatbelt on, and I gripped the steering wheel to keep from offering help. I let out a sigh when he eventually clicked it in place.
Without checking how close Charlie was, I turned the key and counted. She was in the car before I reached five.
“Jeez, Sam. I was just…” she trailed off when she caught me raising an eyebrow at her in the mirror. “Sorry, Pop.” She closed the door and strapped herself in behind her siblings.
“Apology accepted. Shall we go pick up Quinn and Julian and see what goodies they bought us today?”
The mirror showed me three eager faces as cheery yesses echoed through the car.
Alex’s expression was clearer and more alert. “Drive, Pop. Drive!”
Shaking my head, I put the van in gear and rolled toward the exit of the parking lot, mindful of the parents and kids still walking to their cars. A chorus of groans sounded behind me when “Banana Pancakes” piped up on the radio.
“Not again,” Charlie complained.
For a moment, I was tempted to leave it on as punishment for her rudeness. I sighed. That sort of thing never worked with Charlie, so I switched to the kids’ favorite songs playlist and reversed the speaker setting to loud in the back, down in the front. They were singing along—loud, off-key, but full of joy—toone of Charlie’s favorites before I even slid onto the road. Even with my speakers turned down, I’d be humming those tunes in my head until long after dinner.
Quinn and Julian already stood outside their favorite comic store—next to the candy store—as I parked the van on the curb. My heart swelled at the sight. They’d inherited my sturdy frame—less the soft belly—my messy brown hair, right down to the golden undertones, but like their younger siblings, they had Evan’s pale brown eyes and smile. When Julian smirked, I always expected Evan’s voice to come out of his mouth, especially now they were growing taller than me…
Instead of joining their brother in the back, Quinn—wearing their noise reduction headphones—sat next to me.
Julian mimed a high-five in the mirror as a greeting. I mimed one back.
“Right.” Julian’s deep voice boomed through the music as he unzipped his backpack and took out a tin. “I’ll give three clues. Whoever guesses right has first choice of chores.”
As the younger ones listened to Julian’s clues, I turned to Quinn and gave them a thumbs-up/thumbs-down gesture. They smiled—the quiet smile they always gave when things were fine but needed some space.
