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The Driveway

I take the boys to their schools in the morning before I head to work. Baby Theo likes to run around a bit before he gets in the car, but his running around is not random. He almost always runs right out to the end of the driveway and stops. He looks down the street, and most of the time, he shouts. His shouts are just gibberish, for now, so I try to imagine what he is doing. Is he calling after his Mother, who leaves before us? Does his Saxon/Viking/Celtish heritage instinctively drive him to Shout when setting off on a voyage - somehow declaring his intent to the gods, or is he just yelling at a crow? I like the Viking theory the best, naturally, but I have always thought of driveways as magical places.

Even as a child I thought about my parent's driveway and how it connected to the street, and that street connected to the highway, and the highway to the Interstate - and how I could go anywhere - and that all of those places were connected right to my driveway. I didn't really consider Oceans, and I didn't know about ferry boats, but you get the idea. Maybe it was because I grew up in a place that wasn't really near anything, but I have always looked at a driveway as a gateway to just about anywhere. That may also be why I love road trips.

Before you go to work or school tomorrow, run out to the end of your driveway for a minute and think about all of the places that you can go. You could drive to New York, or Alaska, or Tierra Del Fuego (probably) - or you can just yell at a crow.


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