been a while since i did this, so the detail may be lacking a little bit.
me pulling into a gas station off the highway in my Neon. Royal Blue. pull up to a pump, notice the punk/boyish/ teenage girl doing something sophisticated maintenance wise to her classic GTO, and turn on the pump. the gas starts water-falling out of the back of my car, from under the trunk door. Spraying punk girl’s shoes. she looks at me with disdain as i try again, trying to be sure of what i’m seeing. “You wanna stop that, ya think?” she says to me, rolling her eyes. she comes over to look at it, tells me to bring it over to the diagnostic center (big ass computerized thing sitting in the row of pumps, looking like a pump, as a matter of fact. ) She plugs my car into it, looks confused, gets on the phone and tries calling someone about what she’s seeing. but after about 15 minutes of talking, and her walking in and out of the convenience store part of the station, eating a Baby Ruth, she finally gives up, hands me the phone and tells me I can call them back to find out what to do. The line has been disconnected, of course, and when I look back at the computer to try to figure out what I can, all I see is a vending machine with diet cokes, newspapers and candy bars. Punk Girl is gone
And I’m at my parents’ house, and my dad is there. And they have gotten divorced but even though he got the house and us kids (we’re 47, 45 and 40 lol) SHE maintains ownership of certain designated areas. I find this out when I use the restroom in the downstairs hallway, and he has repainted it, and redecorated it, all except for her 6 inch strip of wall/counter at the right hand wall. so that has the old counter top, and the 70’s wallpaper, and the mustard color and the brown towels, and the dried flower wall hanging it has always had. His side is stark white. Pure? (haha)
And there are areas like this all over the house. like there is just a little crack in the door she has her toe in. every ‘room’ of the ‘house.’ see the metaphor?
And here’s the funny part. I’m rolling my eyes at him for all her strongholds, and ribbing him a little bit, but it is time to go, so he walks me to the door, past the formal living room. And he gets quiet as he stands in the entrance, and says “I’ve kept it just like it was the day she left.”
And I look in the room and see the tree and the lights and the wrapping paper all over the floor, and I realize, “IT’S CHRISTMAS!” Her gift to us was getting the hell out of our lives 🙂 🙂 🙂