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Posts Tagged ‘potato chip bags’

Old Red sat in the driveway dusted with snow.  “Mom, why is the truck here when Dad isn’t?”  Shoving the bedroom blinds aside, I stared below in disbelief.  There it was–home from the airport but without its owner.  Hmmmm….

“Benjamin Keith!”   (Picture your own mother when she was angry…her brow furrowed; words waiting to spill from her drawn mouth.)  I ran downstairs into the territory of tossed jeans, potato chip bags, and Axe cologne.  A mop of disheveled hair and one skinny, hairy leg poked out from beneath the covers.  “Ben!”  A barely perceptible, “What…” came from the pile on the bed.  “Tell me you didn’t go to the airport and take your dad’s truck.”  “Yeah, I thought I’d pick him up after my appointment today.”

Visualize a calming place…count to ten…breathe.  No.  It didn’t help.  “What were you thinking?  You didn’t have permission to go to the long-term parking garage, locate the truck, and bring it home!”  (At this point, the dialogue became monologue and I realized I can do a pretty good imitation of my mother when she’s upset.) 

“Mom, I paid for the parking fee.”  Not understanding the logic behind this statement, I shook my head in confusion.  How can I know so little as the parent of an eighteen-year-old?

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