Father Time is a weekly column dedicated to the concept of time in a parent’s life, particularly a father’s life. The point of view comes from a father of two young sons, both under three-years-old, and how time really is just that: a concept.
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It was on a mini-vacation, my family’s first real one in a long time, that I experienced the rare phenomenon of time standing still, however, in our case, it was at the worst possible time. We had finished three nights in a hotel in Newport Beach, checked out Saturday morning, and headed over to Knott’s Berry Farm amusement park. After a few hours at the park, we packed up the boys, got on the highway, and took a longer route back to San Diego with the intention of letting the kids catch a nap on the way home.
It was almost 4 p.m., and the temperature was around 96 degrees. No route would get us home quickly, and with the highway shut, the traffic reporter’s only advice was to “wait it out.”
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All was going to plan until we saw traffic backing up on the interstate about 60 miles north of San Diego. A quick check of the GPS said arrival would be two hours from that point. We tuned into the traffic report and learned that a brush fire had started on the shoulder and was raging, and about to jump the highway. Authorities had just closed all lanes. At that very same moment, the boys awoke from their naps, both screaming. We pulled off the highway into a parking lot to regroup. It was almost 4 p.m., and the temperature was around 96 degrees. No route would get us home quickly, and with the highway shut, the traffic reporter’s only advice was to “wait it out.”
My wife Yelp’d a family fun center arcade less than a mile from where we were. We went there immediately and let the boys stick tokens in the machines and crawl around for an hour. The GPS still showed no sign of improvement. The traffic report said all lanes still shut. We killed another hour at the arcade. By 6 p.m. we decided to eat dinner at IHOP. We let that drag out, and afterward learned that two lanes had opened. GPS still said two hours from that point.
…Please let me have another moment of patience so that I can be strong for my wife and children…
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We weren’t going to check into another hotel, and with the boys now sniffling, all of us tired and antsy, we had no choice but to get back on the road. I travel that highway at least twice a week for work. Under normal conditions you can breeze through the Temecula Valley. That night, we went about a mile an hour for about an hour. It was during those excruciating moments that I asked God, the Universe, whomever, to give me strength. To please let me have another moment of patience so that I could be strong for my wife and children. The boys, thankfully, were pleasant (read: no tears or outbursts) and my wife was (more than I can ever be) calm and collected.
There are so many families in this world that would trade their situation with mine in a hot second. There are countless fathers out there that would take a jammed highway any day.
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We eventually made it home. We gave the boys their baths, we put them to bed late, then later we crashed into bed, beaten down. I know I have no room to complain about any of this. My family wasn’t fleeing our homeland to find refuge in an another country. We weren’t escaping a war torn city, or needing food and shelter. We had just had a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity, for God’s sake. I have to be thankful that those moments, even though they were a true test of my patience, were just that. There are so many families in this world that would trade their situation with mine in a hot second. There are countless fathers out there that would take a jammed highway any day.
So, to all those dads and moms and families who think that their vacation is in a tailspin, just remember to hold on and enjoy. It’s the worst of the best times you’ll ever have.
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Photo credit: Robert Couse-Baker.