It Makes Sense To Me

It may make no sense to you.

That I would drive 13 hours to get a few precious hours.

But if I could tell you how it felt to have Lucca barrel out of their room to give me a deep, healing hug,

Or to know I got Aidan to smile as I surprised him when he got off the bus,

That I got to sit on a snuggly couch with Jenny and share for 30 unhurried minutes,

Maybe you’d understand.

Or if I explained that sitting in the uncomfortable bleachers was worth it when Betty looked up and smiled,

That Kate’s face lit up when the car door opened and she saw me sitting there,

The comfort of friendship as Paula, Kel, and I felt the excited thrum of a crowd watching “The Cup” on the big screen, as we walked and talked and laughed,

It might become clear.

Thirteen hours of driving… It makes total sense to me.