In January we went to Idaho for the wedding of a niece. We rode in the back of our son’s Cherokee just in case the rodes turned bad. Halfway, we stopped in Tremonton for a late supper. I was the last to leave the restaurant and I couldn’t remember where we parked. First I felt bad that nobody waited, but then I figured maybe they went out to warm up the car. I walked out into the parking lot toward a silver vehicle with it’s lights on. Because of tinted windows, I couldn’t see inside. The rear door handle seemed a bit different, but when I opened it and saw a car seat I was pretty sure I had the wrong vehicle. I didn’t take time to more than glance at the parents who turned around as I said, “oops, I’m sorry.” I closed the door and walked back toward Wendy’s where I could now see another vehicle parked right in front of the door. By the way, I don’t really know one car from another, or one SUV from another, even a Cherokee. However, I could now see my daughter-in-law in the front, so I climbed in. They were busting a gut. They had watched me leave, and walk right past them. “Where’s mom going?” By the time I opened somebody else’s door they were laughing pretty hard.
My son felt it was prudent to drive by the other vehicle, and roll down my tinted window while everyone waved. But me, I was nearly on the floor. They said the other people just laughed. But I was sure the whole thing was evidence that senility had begun.
Sure I could turn this into an analogy of correcting wrong choices immediately, or forgiving others who inadvertantly tresspass against us, but honestly, I think it’s just about laughing at those type of moments in life. Then driving away. Quickly–and no need to roll down the windows son.
Tomorrow is the last day for the book-give-away, so if you’d like a romance in the medieval ages, complete with castles and fair maidens, then post a comment as suggested.