Sleeper Car

Monday morning. No one wants to go back to school, myself included. How difficult to drag myself from the fuzzy flannel sheets into the chill of pre-dawn hours and shake Drew awake. We are driving carpool this morning. We cannot be late, despite the residue of effect from late Sunday night activities.

I stuff a half-asleep Drew into Baby, scrubbing the sleepy seeds from my own eyes, and head out for the pickups. One by one they stumble from their houses and plop into the car. I glance in the mirror to make sure everyone is buckled up. They all have their iPod earbuds dangling at the right tilt, their heads pressed back against the seat, their eyes shut, mouths hanging open. Moments after we pull onto 390, I hear gentle snoring. Without exception, they are all sound asleep.

Ahead, the traffic is slowing for the inevitable construction. The sun hangs a glowing orb in the eastern sky, dazzling me momentarily with colors of gold and rose and orange. The faint music from each of the iPods brushes the air with its own aural tint. I boldly turn on my own CD, no longer concerned with how it will affect my riders. Beethoven's Fifth spills into the car's interior not even eliciting a half opened eye from the sound sleepers.


I don't know about their day, but mine is unfolding gently and kindly. What better way to begin than with gorgeous color, soul satisfying music, and the happy knowledge that you are still able to provide nurture to some not-quite-adult young men who are in training for life. Happy Monday.