On a day road trip to and from Cincinnati in one day, I found myself alone in the car for a total of 7.5 hours.  Normally, I would dread the drive, particularly because I’m usually the snorer in the passenger seat, not behind the wheel.

But this road trip was different for some reason.  It was the first time in several months I’d been alone for a large chunk of the day, no baby, no spouse, not even a co-worker next to me. This incredibly odd cascade of aloneness swept over me.  AND I LOVED IT.

I’m not a coffee drinker but I was a bit weary of the possibility of dozing off on 71N, so I drank a cup of coffee, relishing the sweetness and rarity of the occasion.  I returned phone calls, some that have been back logged to July and I left chirpy voicemails and affectionate messages.  Another odd feeling washed over me: I was only thinking of what I needed to do for non-related people in my life.  I LOVED IT.

Calling Denver, I talked to old roommates from a decade ago who were reuniting for the weekend and were on their way to a concert, but stopped to squeal with laughter for 45 minutes rehashing memories of our time together in Washington state.  I left a voicemail mesasage for a former coworker from Boston who wanted advice about his love life.  My brother in Los Angeles and I swapped stories about favorite restaurants and recipes the other needed to try.  In New York, one of my friends was in love but overwhelmed with the new PhD program she had just begun.  My best friend in Hawaii is getting married and needed advice on venues for the reception.

And then, the last epiphany settled: Other people in my life with whom I have built sturdy and lasting relationships with need me.  They actually miss me.  They wonder where I am and what I am doing now that I have disappeared into the abyss of motherhood.  To reconnect, to feel needed for sound advice about things outside practicality, schedule, work, and childrearing felt, to use an overused word, amazing.

I remembered memories long before Nick and Isaiah, when I spent hours gabbing with friends, bonding with co-workers with no sense or fear of time or commitment.  When life was boundless and undemanding, you can do those kinds of things; spend all the time in the world with whomever and have no guilty.  You can go away for a weekend and not have a planner to tell you what you need to do when you return to get back on track.

I thought about all the places I’d been that led me to this day.  I felt grateful to have so many people to call back.

We all need to be needed.  And sometimes we need to be needed by more than just the same people in our daily lives to remind ourselves of how largely we are connected to others, how large our circle of impact is to our friends and peers.

To know you have been missed is a wonderful gift on a Saturday night road trip.