Moving Along

As I adjusted my sunglasses, I checked my watch. Again. There was no way that this car full would be dropped off in time. But safety first as my foot let up on the gas pedal. After all this salmon color station-wagon was not on a NASCAR track. Instead on winding country roads, I was the soccer mom hauling dear young ones. But they were all were getting restless, including me. The clamor behind me was climbing—the cacophony of loud music, shouting, really off-key singing. Among other things.

“Hey, Mom, let’s get hamburgers!”

Glancing into the rear mirror, I caught glimpse of my impatient passengers. Well, almost

I couldn’t see into the way-back—often called the third seat—but I could imagine. My daughter wasn’t visible, but I could hear murmurings. She was probably in the same position I left her. That is, sprawled out on the long-cushioned seat, thumping her feet and groaning. She was definitely nervous. Dressed in the full regalia of a baseball player, she was ready to launch. The game would begin any minute, so her stop was first.

My eyes then rested on the red plaid lining of the infant seat. And our baby toddler. Having just stepped into age two, he was a running whirl. By the minute, he was stretching in inches because he loved to eat, every new morsel a tasty adventure. Rubbing his eyes, a good nap was next, especially when riding in the car. He was the youngest and his siblings watched over him like a baby bird. Yes, his older brother kept a close eye. Even though he was tuned into his loud music, he still cared for his baby brother. Ah, a well-honed multi-tasking young man at age twelve.

“Whoa Mom, you’ve just past the hamburger place!”

To the far right sat my younger daughter who was pulling her sash full of badges over her head, smoothing it on her green scout uniform. Her eyes were bright and expectant. She couldn’t wait to see her friends and work on today’s special project. Details were secret, so quite possibly her creative talent would fashion something that would be gifted to someone. Probably for Dad since she loved to surprise him.

My head turned back to the road. Beside me, in the passenger seat was an older man with graying hair and twinkling blue eyes. Grandpa. Once the car ignition throttled, the chatter began and didn’t stop. Expressing himself, he waved about his bulky, rough hands, talking and talking with hardly taking a breath. He changed the radio station to this and that as the the volume soared to ear piercing. My head nodded and turned, bobbing like a football player statue. Grandpa would be the last stop; I hoped patience would last.

“C’mon, Mom, we’re hungry…we want hamburgers!”

The salmon station-wagon slowed. One by one they skipped out. Grandpa lingered, his right foot out the car door, the other still tapping to the music. And still talking. He didn’t really want go see the doctor even if it was just a well visit. Hmm … this doc would get an earful.

The radio now off I was back on the road. Gentle breezes cooled my neck. Taking in the rich verdant scenery, frenetic thoughts calmed. It was the summer of my life, the player piece seemingly stuck, but really flying by in fast forward.

A piercing howl shook the silence. The little one was awake. Tuning the radio to lively tunes, I began sing. Baby toddler babbled along, following the lyrics with his own style. Moving along, the salmon station wagon angled its way home.

Next time, we will stop for that hamburger.

… and that’s how I live it.

An afterthought. This story is a result of a recent dream. The imagery lingered, prompting a sense of gratitude for days already experienced and anticipating those to come. Even if one day I tuck into the passenger seat.