So a guy
on a motorcycle passed me on Taylor Road yesterday. He was going more than
35MPH to get by me. The speed limit is 35, and I was doing 35, so clearly, he was speeding, and I made a face
as he vroomed by. This is Taylor Road in Suwanee. I was on the way to the library
to drop off two books, and Taylor is one way to get there.
The high school
my girls went to is on this road. That’s why I am so familiar with the speed
limit and why I adhere to it so closely. No matter how anxious I might have
been to get to or from that school during our tenure there, I was always sure
to keep to 35MPH. With so many kids in the vicinity, the speed limit is kind
of sacred.
And every
time I turn onto Taylor Road these days, I’m reminded of a special night right
after Sarah began her freshman year at Collins Hill High School.
There was
a dance at the school. Did they call them mixers back then? I don’t know – that’s
what we called them in my day –
mixers were dances less fancy than homecoming or prom – no need to dress up or
have a date, just come as you are. It was a Saturday night and Sarah’s first
high school dance. She asked if I would drop her off and pick her up. And of
course, I said yes.
We drove
to the front of the school to the door that opened to the common area, close
to the main office. That’s where the other cars were dropping their kids off,
so it’s not like I was at some weird entrance while the rest of the parents
were elsewhere. Sarah disappeared into the crowd of excited students.
I went
home. Google says home is 7 miles and 15 minutes from Collins Hill. As the
night wore on, Amanda went to bed and was sound asleep when it was time for me
to pick Sarah up.
It was
late, and it was difficult maintaining the speed limit on Taylor Road, but I was
good. I got to the school and back to the same door that I had dropped Sarah at. Only
there was no line of cars this time picking up the kids. In fact, there was not
even one car picking up a student at
that door. Was I that late? There weren’t that many kids mingling around. I
parked and went into the common area – no Sarah! I told myself not to get
unnecessarily anxious, perhaps she got a ride home, and she thought she would be
there before I would need to leave the house to pick her up.
So, I
drove home, creeping at 35MPH down Taylor and probably above the speed limit on
the other roads between the school and the house. Panic was trying to settle
in, but I convinced myself that Sarah had gotten a ride.
At home,
Amanda was sleeping. And there was no
Sarah.
I turned
the car around and drove back to Collins Hill, keeping it at 35 when I got to
Taylor, cursing at the speed limit sign and asking if it was not aware of what
I was going through at that point?
Once
again at the school, there was still no Sarah and even fewer kids lingering
than before. The principal was there and saw my distress. He let me into the office,
so I could call home on the chance that Sarah had arrived since. I
called. The answering machine picked up – I was yelling into the phone, “Amanda!!!
Wake up! Wake up and tell me if Sarah is there or if she has called!!” But Amanda
did not wake up. So, I had no idea if Sarah had left a message or not. Where
was she?
And I
drove home once again. It did not seem that Sarah was at the school, so it was
logical to think she got a ride and home was where she had to be at that point.
But she
was not home, and there was no message on the answering machine from her giving
me a clue.
My brain
tried to stick to practical reasoning. If Sarah was not at home, and if
everything is okay with her, then she must still be at the school somewhere. I
got back in the car and motored back to Collins Hill.
With excruciating restraint, I held to 35 on
Taylor Road.
I told
myself that the door I had been going to just was not working for me. Could
there have been another door for the pick-up of the kids? I had already tried
the doors by the major parking lot that we used for marching band. No one was
there. Another door was around the back by the student parking lot. It is the
door closest to the gym. And the gym might be where the dance was, not the
common area!
I drove all
the way around to the back of the school. Hope was rising in me – of course
Sarah would be at that door. Logic dictated that’s where she would be.
The light
by the door was on. But there was no one around. No students. No parents, no school
officials.
My heart
sank. What could I do next?
I had
slowed down when approaching the door, but with no one there, I turned to drive
off.
And that’s
when I saw a tiny head pop up into view in the upper half of the door that had
the window.
A girl
who looked so sad and abandoned.
Relief
flooded me as I stopped the car.
Sarah got
in. “Why are you so late, Mom?”
I sank my
head and with a soft shaky voice I answered, “It did not occur to me that you would be picked up at a different door
than the one I dropped you off at.” Are parents supposed to just know these things?
And one
of the touches of irony here is that the door Sarah was waiting at – the one
all the other kids had been told to wait at, is at the bottom of a staircase
that leads to the open space common area. If Sarah had not been so intently
watching out the door for her errant mother to pick her up, she might have
heard up the stairs in the distance said mother screaming into a phone with hysterics
for Amanda to wake up!
And so
now you can understand how the memory of all the emotions from that night can run
through me again each time I turn onto Taylor Road and see that 35MPH sign.
I caught
up to the motorcyclist-in-a-hurry at the red-light. He was in the left lane stopped; I was in the right lane. It seemed wise to not make any more faces at him, although
he did look my way. The road was clear, and I was content to just make my right-on-red while he had to wait for the light.
026 20180726 Taylor Road
