Are We There Yet?

“Are we there yet?”

So goes the classic line from the backseat on the family road trip. Bored children, who haven’t yet learned that “half the fun is getting there,” drive their parents insane by asking again and again a question to which they already know the answer — “No. We’re not there yet.”

I feel like that kid in the backseat. I want to be in Ohio. Yesterday. This dragging things out over days, weeks, months, is killing me.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Jill took the job in March and telecommuted so the kids could finish the school year in Kansas.

But school’s over, and we’re still here. I’m splitting my time between trying to work and packing. I only today was able to schedule with the moving company. We have a house, but we haven’t closed on it yet. There’s a hundred things to do, and I just want to be done with them.

Are we there yet?

This sign will be a sight for sore eyes, when I see it again.

This sign will be a sight for sore eyes, when I see it again.

No. Not yet. By early next week we should have most of the packing done. It’ll become harder and harder to live here, because more and more of our stuff will be in boxes.

Then we’ll largely be marking time. We’ll be waiting for the move to happen.

There will be the tearful goodbyes, as Jill leaves her hometown, as I leave the place I’ve spent nearly my entire adult life, as the kids worry they’ll never see their friends again and fear they won’t make new ones.

And then there’s that long, 12-hour-or-so drive. Jill will have the kids, trying not to be driven crazy by the fighting that is sure to happen. I’ll have the pets, trying not to be driven crazy by the whining and meowing that is sure to happen. We’re getting drugs for the pets. I think it’s illegal to sedate the kids.

Of course, once we get there, we can’t get into the house right away. We have to wait for it to close. So our things will be in storage while we stay with Jill’s new best friend. We’ll have to wait to get our stuff. The move will go on longer.

So seriously, can we be there now? Can it just be over? Can we stop torturing ourselves and dragging things out?

I’ve been waiting to return to Ohio for about 44 years. I suppose I can wait three weeks longer.

But I really want to be there now. So I’m sure you understand my question:

Are we there yet?


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