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Stephen J. Lyons
Commuting with Rose

Four o’clock and I arrive to pick up my daughter, Rose, in front of the Moscow, Idaho, public library. She sits on the west-facing stone stairs, the unused entrance to the old Carnegie section that now houses children’s books. On the stairs with Rose is Rachel, also of the Moscow High School (“Pride of the North”) class of 1998. Here sit two seventeen-year-olds deep in conversation, and school about to end for the year. The weak rays of this spring’s on-and-off sun hit their faces and hair in such a way as to warm the coldest heart with youth and promise.

This is May on the Palouse, a tender time when the fat buds of ancient lilac bushes break apart and seduce us with scent. From every distant corner of town, cock pheasants call in their hens and quail offer their high purrs. Finches, mourning doves, and black-capped chickadees compete for birdsong space and nesting sites. Cottonwood flotsam drifts overhead like snow. I feel lazy, almost drowsy, so I sit in the car and drink it all in for a moment, letting the nonsense of the electronic workday evaporate and hoping the girls don’t spot me…

Excerpted from I Wanna Be Sedated: 30 Writers on Parenting Teenagers
Copyright 1997 by Stephen J. Lyons