Safe at Home

Several years ago we were waiting for my son Andrew, his wife Renee, and their two children Celine and Moriah to be moving from their home from Amarillo, Texas to their new home in southwest Pennsylvania. He’d decided to accept employment much closer to his two sisters and me.

We knew they planned to leave Sunday. I was certain that they’d go to church services to say goodbye to their friends and fellow church goers. The first day, they got a late start and didn’t cover as much ground as they’d expected. The 16 foot box truck lumbered along, bringing them closer, but we became anxious, wanting them back home with us and safe. They didn’t call to share progress until they hit Indiana and probably wouldn’t have said anything without the constant prodding of his sisters.

It was the last leg of their journey to the new beginning. We knew that they expected be home sometime Tuesday, but we weren’t sure just when. By reckoning the miles that remained between us and them, we imagined that it would be later in the evening when they arrived. We gathered at my older daughter Amanda’s to wait. Amanda and Eric graciously allowed them to stay with them until they could finish the inspection and sign the contract on their newly purchased home.

The evening grew darker and a text said they were in West Virginia. Tension grew. They were much closer now. Every sound drew someone to the window or the door, thinking maybe they were nearer than they said and planned to surprise us, but no and the time dragged. Eight, nine, ten, the hands on the clock never seemed to move so slowly.

I could no longer stand the confines of the room and walked out onto the back deck for fresh air. Inside, we’d been talking in whispers to allow my granddaughter Hannah to sleep. My daughters joined me, where we could talk without fear waking Hannah.

Each time a passing traffic sound called to us, it wouldn’t be the answer we sought. Finally the roar of a large truck spoke to us. It was them. The caravan had finally arrived, my son in the box truck, towing the family car. Following close behind was Renee driving their Suburban with an open trailer behind. When my daughter Anna, saw what was on the second trailer she began to cry. It was the Chevy pick-up truck that belonged to their grandfather, Bud Morrison. The truck had been taken to Texas on their first move, and now… it returned with the family safe and reunited.