I was driving around the other day when it hit me.

I miss carpool. 

Ten years ago I would have laughed if you told me I would miss it. The constant dashing around, rushing to get out the door because we didn’t want to make others late. Some days being dressed in the same clothes I went to sleep in looking like a hot-mess. Kids piling out of my Sequoia like a clown car, full of odd noises and backpacks. Organized chaos in a moving vehicle.

Carpool days were hectic, crazy and stressful. It created morning scrambles that had nothing to do with eggs and often started our day in a flurry. Sometimes it was an all day assignment– to and from school, sports, activities and dances in the evening with the after-dance pick up with a car of sweaty teenagers.

Carpool was often an 18 hour a day adventure.

We were basically our kids Uber. And just like Uber, there were good rides that easily got 5 stars and some that struggled to earn 1. There were lively conversations and some days with one word responses from tired bodies. It wasn’t always “quality time” but we hung on for the days of laughter and amusement. It was a love-hate relationship.

But just like any complicated relationship, when it’s over you remember the good times.

I miss seeing their faces every day, literally watching my kids and their friends grow up before my eyes. Hearing their voices change, their faces morph and their mannerisms mature.

I miss the silliness. I miss the silliness and  the “Donut-Fridays” when surprising them with a ring of sugar helped start the ride with a smile. I miss listening to morning radio shows or playing trivia in the car. I miss hearing them sing, being cued into their music and learning what was cool and what I was to never admit I listened to.

I miss making up songs to make them laugh, and other times saying nothing. Just riding, hoping to hear magic in the conversations they were sharing. Getting nuggets of information I would have never gained if I wasn’t pretending to be tuned out just driving. I was an expert eaves-dropper, learning about their opinions, attitudes, relationships and challenges.

I miss looking right and seeing my kid next to me. That was the rule of carpool: your parent drives, you got shotgun. Lucky us to have the best co-pilot. Seeing their sweet faces laugh with their friends, observing them in a social setting and adding their two-cents to whatever was shared. Hearing them talk about things that would not have surfaced from the question “How was your day?”.

Yes, carpooling was stressful but it was also so insightful. And funny. And connective. It was an era that made me the student, because my riders were the teacher.

It’s a time I’m so grateful I had. Time to watch little kids become teenagers, find their voice and their personalities. Time to share short conversations that were eye-opening and a window into learning all the tea without helicopter parenting. Time to be present, but also observant.

Time I will never get back, so time I treasure deep within my heart.

I miss carpool, but what I really miss are the people I carpooled. I miss being part of their daily lives and part of who they were becoming. I miss their stories and their search for independence.

I miss THEM.

I was their chauffeur, their Uber, but also their companion. It was a job, but it was also a privilege. And those twenty minutes in the car, priceless. I miss that job, but I’m eternally grateful for all the years I was gainfully employed. Best job ever.