WAITING

She packed the bags in secret. Not knowing where they were going.

“Are we there yet?”
“Have we arrived?”
“Where are we going?”

She wished she had answers.

The children had been asking since they pulled away from the house in the dark.
Since before the sun rose.
Since the engine started, and the driveway disappeared.

She’d packed the suitcases weeks ago. Hidden them in the garage.
She knew this day would come.

The sun was rising now.
The kids hadn’t gone back to sleep.
She kept driving.

She kept looking up at the sky and asking—

“Are we there yet?”
“Have we arrived?”
“Where are we going?”