Exit at the sign of the golden ritual.

I'm writing from the passenger seat this morning. We are on our way to collect my stepson for the duration of his winter break.

This is the event that, over the years and with a little wink, I've come to call "The Prisoner Exchange." We meet in the middle--both households driving about 4 hours to the halfway point to the designated parking lot. There's a little pleasant conversation while we shuffle luggage from one car to the other, some dialogue about logistics, and farewells seasoned with mixed emotions.

After nearly a decade, this has become routine for us. Like many family routines, it has the potential to be a ritual.

My husband and I add to this sense of ritual by observing a specific step of the ceremony: We treat ourselves to a drive-thru breakfast. And not just any drive-thru. One particular franchise shop just off the highway that excels in every aspect of the fast food experience.

We speak of it in hushed tones when we talk about this drive.

I could talk now about customer experience and service excellence. This restaurant does have many lessons to teach us about doing good work.

But I want to stay focused on the subject of routine and ritual.

Why?

Because so many parts of life are routine to the point of being mundane.

The familiarity of these routines and habits can be comforting at times, but, like they say, familiarity breeds contempt. Unfortunately, at the far end of the spectrum is mindlessness, a state where we operate robotically and without feeling.

To avoid a life filled with contempt for the day-to-day nature of life or being numb to the world around us, we need to nurture intent.

A day spent in the car is not my idea of fun, even when it means time with our son. But the steps we've taken to infuse this trip with humor

and to create landmarks along the way (pun slightly intended) have made the drive a celebrated element of our family's life.

We've given the routine a name. We perform a countdown leading up to the day. We recognize and call out roadside sights--familiar and new. We break bread, albeit in biscuit form. We greet our counterparts as fellow travelers.

These little choices over the years have transformed a routine roadtrip. It is not a chore or task. It is a special event we get to perform together.

I'll close here; my breakfast is ready.