The coffee maker's ready for tomorrow's whirl at life, and that little clock I want to strangle the sound out of is set for 8 a.m., and uniforms hang quietly in the closet, wondering which one I'll wear to work. But except for drinking the coffee, I don't really want to deal with any of them. But I will, as soon as I tell you of a lovely chunk of life that seemed like a song of the road.

Some times we may not realize we're making special moments in our lives, but even before daughter Bev, at "Scratching The Surface" planned this trip, I knew it wouldn't be ordinary.

The main purpose of it was to be with Mandy and Aaron at their wedding, and we did. However, when you consider that Bev lives in Pennsylvania, and I am over the mountains, and family is strung out in between, and in other directions, visits are increasingly rare. And that's why her organizational skills and sweet imagination surfaced. When printed all out, her travel plans for this seemed a little like someone's running for office.

Sometimes I think God put Bev right where He wants her to be. Even though like me, she can't sing very well, she's very good at carrying Heavenly messages, like the one she surprised me with when her brother died a few years ago.

We were talking about our dealing with his death, and she'd decided how she could cope. To honor his life, Bev chooses to live life more, to appreciate sunrises and sunsets, even foods, special occasions, wild life, the outdoors, to celebrate all of everything she can.

So during this quickly fleeting week we set out to spend time with all our family members, but not the usual noisy gathering of clan, but mostly seeing them individually.

Sometimes I would run interference for her, so she could get more sleep, or not let others drain her, even though that wasn't what they intended. This woman's driven so much this week she should get frequent driving miles.

When there were get togethers with family, giving each one time to simply be, is what we did, though their individualities sometimes rub a little, or even a lot, This is what we did all week. All of we works in progress might show more improvement, if we did some caring things, instead of criticising. Bev did some little surprises, gifts to relatives who recently stopped smoking, totally unexpected recognitions of major accomplishments.

The week seemed to leave so quickly, and all of it wasn't serious family dynamics, although our spotting the frog near the front row seats during the wedding ceremony, was more serious than we needed.

And suddenly seeing deer cross a road in front of our car caused my adrenaline to fly. Being that close to them was scary, but yet it intrigued me.

Dealing with a lady police woman in Vail almost seemed like it was Candid Camera. There was much construction, so we weren't sure which ways to go, and a grouchy suppose to be traffic director was no help at all. I decided he should have been a bar bouncer, but Bev was more kind, saying only that he shouldn't run for any office. But the police woman was pleasant and very helpful. Still, the third time we asked her for directions, I sensed she was wearying a little of us. But she got us through the maze of that quaint little town, right past her traffic shack that had a sign over it that read "Check Point Charley". I am still wondering who named it that.

It seemed like a little alpine hamlet there. I didn't get to see inside stores, since we were so busy trying to find legal places to drive or park, but I did spot a place called Designer Furs, Ltd. with a display that looked like someone put furry animal tails, around the neck of it. This did not intrigue me, at all. I felt sorry for the animals who died so it could be made.

We made good traveling time, and got good gas mileage, and the only time this week that Bev seemed even slightly irked about the trip was when we found ourselves in miles and miles of Sunday evening going home traffic. Someone occasionally did something very stupid, like squeezing moving metal much too close to someone else's. But through the trip, Bev gave new meaning to "Cool Hand Luke's" patience. She really is a terrific driver.

With her true humorous attitude, Bev suggested she and I deliberately stop at every historic marker on the way, and spend a silent moment of gratitude for not having to blaze right past them. Perhaps we'll do that on another trip, but we were busy enough, without counting all those markers.

Before we got through with our off key singing to a Springsteen CD, there was no doubt at all we were born in the USA, and everybody in the whole world has a very hungry heart. I was hoping to sing about the Glory Days, but we never made it that far this time. Bev says we will do another trip together, and I'd love that. But even if we don't, her making this one happen will always be the finest gift, because she gave her time, herself, even her tiredness, to me.

Nostalgia became supreme, while we drove around Denver, searching for old landmarks she's connected to. We drove by the house we'd lived in long ago, and like before, seeing it again spilled out memories usually safely tucked away. Bev seemed more intent about the past while searching for a little house she lived in when she was first married.

We set aside time, made it our priority, to visit her brother's grave. It took time to find his in those long rows of stark white markers, and then suddenly, there it was.

Now that I know how to find where it is, I'll go back, sometime alone, but when I walk away I'll remember Bev's words, about honoring him by truly living.