It was a long drive for the college tour- four hours on the way there, and 3.5 on the way back. I thought I was going to be super tired for the drive home, but I wasn’t. I was thinking how lucky I was that I got to spend the day with my kid- even if 7.5 hours of it was driving, and he slept for at least 3 of those.

How many more days do I have like this? Ones where we spend most of our waking hours together? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure the answer sounds something like “never enough.”

I let him control what music we’re listening to because it matters more to him than it does to me. (As long as it’s not going to make me sleepy) The playlists bounce from some Indie tunes to folk and on the last leg of the trip he declares it’s time for a vibe switch and puts on showtunes.

I secretly love it when he puts on the showtunes. Ok, so maybe it’s not a secret. Because I sing along with most of them. I was definitely not blessed with an ear for pitch. My musical ability (I’ve often said this) is stunted at leading preschool kids in rounds of “The Wheels on the Bus.” My kid on the other hand has auditioned and been accepted into 3 regional and state choirs as well as receiving state awards for musical roles performed. So while I’m super proud to say that this is kind of a big deal, I’m really glad he chooses not to comment on my lack of ability to stay on pitch and harmonize. Thanks, honey.

As we sing along to “Hadestown” and “RENT!” I’m smiling, just enjoying every minute of this impromptu carpool karaoke and rather pleased with myself on how many of the lyrics I remember. (Except for “La Vie Boheme”- can’t seem to get that one). Most of these songs have very specific memories attached to them, flashes of costumes and props but mostly my kid on stage, breathing so much life and energy into his performances.

I suddenly stop singing, not that my son notices, and I wonder to myself, Who’s gonna sing showtunes with me when he goes off to college next fall?  I’ll be singing “You either get to Hell or to Hadestown” all by myself, which is fine, but not nearly as fun.

And then “Stay Gold” from “The Outsiders” comes on. And while I don’t know all the lyrics to this one (yet), there’s a quick pinching in the back of my nose and I feel my eyes fill up. It’s hard to describe why this song in particular is an emotional gut-punch. I mean, who knew someone would make a second stage adaptation of S.E. Hinton’s novel that would win four Tony’s (including Best Musical)?

Adam Rapp who adapted Hinton’s The Outsiders for the show says, “I wanted it to have almost operatic extremes… I wanted this world to be as brutal is it is tender, as bleak as it is beautiful; we needed to fill in all the extremes, because that’s what being 14, 15, and 16 is like.” (broadway.com)

It’s almost too easy to write off “Stay Gold” as a trite meaning-of-life soliloquy by a dying teenager in a musical.

Except.

Because.

It is all those things- brutal and tender, bleak and beautiful- and it’s also a lot like parenting teenagers, those “operatic extremes.”

“Lookin’ back

On the life I’ve had

I’ll hold on to the good

‘cause I’ve made my peace with all the bad

Sixteen years

Look at all we’ve done

Wouldn’t trade it for the world

Can’t you see that we’re the lucky ones?”

And I don’t dare look over at my son, because the tears I’m trying desperately to hold in will surely spill over. And I definitely can’t sing along- I’m literally one step away from an ugly cry.

I am a classic study in those “operatic extremes” of parenting- so incredibly proud of the human he’s growing up to be, so happy for him as he’s excited about college next year, and so fantastically desperately and intensely sad because he’s my last baby to fly.

Suddenly all those incredibly frustrating parenting moments, those arguments about “PLEASE just pick up your $hit!” seem to fade into mere background noise.

There’s just this car ride, this impossibly long car ride where my back is sore and my calf is stiff and at least one butt cheek is asleep and I think…. I don’t want it to be over. I want to sing more showtunes from musicals I’ve shared with my kid, and I want him to share songs I’ve never heard from obscure shows I didn’t know existed.

And although I’ve known it for a long time now, I feel this in the very fabric of my soul…

I am the lucky one.