The man who drives Benjamin to his internship arrived early on the second day. I guess he figured that the ten minute head start would give him an edge over the traffic crunch. I hustled to get Ben out the door, and on a whim asked for the driver's phone number. In case Ben might one day be sick or something. He gave me his dispatcher's. 

After the door closed I cleared some dishes and sat down at my computer. I read a few emails, and then glanced over to the table. The one that holds Ben's meds.

HIS MEDS!!

The ones that help him cope with anxiety. The ones that will get him through this transition. They were waiting in their little a.m. box expectantly.

Let me hasten to defend myself in terms of reliability. I almost always remember, and when I haven't he was either in the next room or down the road at his high school. Before high school he never took meds. Funny how that is. 

I called the number I had recently scribbled down and called it. I pleaded with the person to get a hold of the driver to ask him to turn around because it was imperative that Ben get his medication. He said he would call. 

A few minutes later the dispatcher called back to say the driver could not turn around as he was already half way there and had another run right after Ben. It was up to me. 

I leaped into the car and headed out with no one but Siri to tell me the way. I have, it turns out, never been to the Search program headquarters. John and I have attended orientations, and welcome events, but not the actual GSK complex.

There are plenty of people who endure long commutes on a daily basis. My oldest son for one. A million workers in Silicon Valley for another. It is a reality for a huge segment of the population who desire to both hold a job and go to sleep in their own bed. Not too much to ask. I have given cursory attention to those conditions, but always managed to bring the focus back to myself. 

My own anxiety began to unspool, as I worried about the consequences of Ben getting his meds ninety minutes late. I wondered if I even had the right address, and how I would find him in a company with thousands of employees. I tried to calm myself, in the hopes that such an effort would somehow spill over to Ben as well. I felt a surge of compassion for a young man trying to navigate unknown roads.

I prayed. 

Then I did a Maria von Trapp. Not my Favorite Things, precisely, but mindfulness about problems I did not have. It was a makeshift strategy for diluting the issue I was facing, namely Ben having a meltdown if I could not get to him soon enough. There were shredded tires along the road. At least John had recently replaced ours, and I would most likely survive the trip. Unlike the people on the West Bank I heard no gunfire overhead. Neither had I lost my home in the recent wildfires out west. My air was a mere 95 rather than 110 like it has been in California. 

As I endured the congestion, which was thick, I thought more about those people who drive a lot. The truckers, and delivery people who are probably not overpaid. All I had to do was look around me to see a throng of such people glued to their steering wheels. This was their life. A wave of empathy pushed self pity to the margins. 

Against all odds I talked my way past the guard station without proper I.D. and wandered around more parking lots than at Disney. I parked illegally in a ride share spot because I was desperate and the closest space was a football field away. Finally a sign seemed to point me toward a door, and miraculously the man behind the desk found Ben's name in the database. In a remarkably short time he trotted down the winding staircases, attended by an escort. His smile was wide.

"Know what this place is like? Hogwarts!!" He could not contain his joy. But then why would he? 

"Because of the stairs! Yes it is!" I gave him his little pills and said goodbye. 

Driving home was not stressful. It still took a long time, and I had missed a meeting, but Ben was fine. Not only that I had gotten to see his face. Feel his excitement in this new adventure. Probably God wanted me to experience that, and three small pills were the occasion to lure me.