" . . . and I've got the t-shirt."
I hated to do it, but last night after I put Babygirl to bed at 8:00 p.m., I had to grocery shop. I drove to the store via the route along the beach and was rewarded by the amazing sight of the sunlight sparkling on the Puget Sound as the sun began its descent from the sky.
I thought of all the times my dad would inform us we were going for a "drive,"--a roving journey with no destination. We almost always headed for the mountains. My mother would grip the dashboard with her hands and dig her foot into the floorboard as if she could control the car from the passenger seat. She has a little issue with heights and never could get comfortable driving on a narrow road along the edge of a steep incline.
This was way before the days of GameBoys. We didn't even have a cassette player in our car, so we'd just sit and stare out the windows--and, of course, poke each other and complain and ask ten thousand times, "Are we almost there?" as if we were actually heading somewhere.
And then, there it would appear. A scenic vista with a sign and a place to pull off the side of the road. We'd scramble out of the back seat and stand at the edge of the lookout and peer into the distance--and often see more trees and more valleys and maybe, if we were extremely lucky, a stream or river or even hit the jackpot and see a waterfall. We'd stretch our legs and breathe fresh air and maybe shiver because mountain air is always chillier than low-land air.
And then my dad would say, "You've seen it. Get back in the car."
This phrase became a family expression, one of those things that glues you and your dysfunctional siblings together. Thirty years later, you say to your brother, the one who was a skinhead for awhile: "You've seen it. Get back in the car," and you are eight years old again, staring at Nature and the world is full of possibilities and hopefully, a snack somewhere. And you both laugh, because you both know exactly what it means and what it meant.
(Our other family expression was "It's in a box in the garage." We moved when I was 11, after my parents' divorce, and some boxes were literally never unpacked. When something came up missing, my dad would say, "It's in a box in the garage." My siblings and I still say this to each other, as if it makes perfect sense.)
So, I reached the grocery store. I shopped quickly and almost finished, when I realized I had to walk all the way back across the store to find a cube of Diet Pepsi (on sale, $4.99). That's when I ran into Suzi, a woman from church.
Suzi is probably about 50. We had a nice long chat, right between housewares and best-sellers. We discussed Vacation Bible School (going very well, thanks for asking), menopause (she's better now, but a couple years ago, the hot flashes almost killed her, but a pill takes care of that), my husband's ability to preach (she actually grew teary-eyed and I thought she might cry right there in Fred Meyers, which is always kind of strange for me, even though my husband is an extremely gifted preacher), mornings (she's not a morning person), kids (she stopped at one), Texas (our husbands are both from there), weather, housekeeping (her daughter-in-law: she's not a housekeeper, but she is really good with the kids). It went on and on. I was just happy I hadn't hit the frozen food aisle yet.
And then--I don't remember the topic--she said, "I've been there. Done that, got the t-shirt." And I thought "You've seen it. Get back in the car." Same thing.
I returned home after 9:00 p.m. and found my husband watching television and his brand-new George Foreman Grill still smelling like the salmon he'd grilled earlier. The kids had been invited to spend the night at their friends, but he couldn't find one of the sleeping bags, so I put away the groceries, filled the dishwasher and found the sleeping bag. By then it was 9:30 p.m. and I hated to leave my house again.
My reward, though, was a view of the sky just before it fell asleep. The edge of the horizon was still pink, but the islands had become dark blue outlines in the periwinkle water. I dropped off the sleeping bag.
Then took a final look at the sky and the water and thought, "You've seen it. Get back in the car," and went home to finish my paperwork for today's exciting episode of Vacation Bible School.
I thought of all the times my dad would inform us we were going for a "drive,"--a roving journey with no destination. We almost always headed for the mountains. My mother would grip the dashboard with her hands and dig her foot into the floorboard as if she could control the car from the passenger seat. She has a little issue with heights and never could get comfortable driving on a narrow road along the edge of a steep incline.
This was way before the days of GameBoys. We didn't even have a cassette player in our car, so we'd just sit and stare out the windows--and, of course, poke each other and complain and ask ten thousand times, "Are we almost there?" as if we were actually heading somewhere.
And then, there it would appear. A scenic vista with a sign and a place to pull off the side of the road. We'd scramble out of the back seat and stand at the edge of the lookout and peer into the distance--and often see more trees and more valleys and maybe, if we were extremely lucky, a stream or river or even hit the jackpot and see a waterfall. We'd stretch our legs and breathe fresh air and maybe shiver because mountain air is always chillier than low-land air.
And then my dad would say, "You've seen it. Get back in the car."
This phrase became a family expression, one of those things that glues you and your dysfunctional siblings together. Thirty years later, you say to your brother, the one who was a skinhead for awhile: "You've seen it. Get back in the car," and you are eight years old again, staring at Nature and the world is full of possibilities and hopefully, a snack somewhere. And you both laugh, because you both know exactly what it means and what it meant.
(Our other family expression was "It's in a box in the garage." We moved when I was 11, after my parents' divorce, and some boxes were literally never unpacked. When something came up missing, my dad would say, "It's in a box in the garage." My siblings and I still say this to each other, as if it makes perfect sense.)
So, I reached the grocery store. I shopped quickly and almost finished, when I realized I had to walk all the way back across the store to find a cube of Diet Pepsi (on sale, $4.99). That's when I ran into Suzi, a woman from church.
Suzi is probably about 50. We had a nice long chat, right between housewares and best-sellers. We discussed Vacation Bible School (going very well, thanks for asking), menopause (she's better now, but a couple years ago, the hot flashes almost killed her, but a pill takes care of that), my husband's ability to preach (she actually grew teary-eyed and I thought she might cry right there in Fred Meyers, which is always kind of strange for me, even though my husband is an extremely gifted preacher), mornings (she's not a morning person), kids (she stopped at one), Texas (our husbands are both from there), weather, housekeeping (her daughter-in-law: she's not a housekeeper, but she is really good with the kids). It went on and on. I was just happy I hadn't hit the frozen food aisle yet.
And then--I don't remember the topic--she said, "I've been there. Done that, got the t-shirt." And I thought "You've seen it. Get back in the car." Same thing.
I returned home after 9:00 p.m. and found my husband watching television and his brand-new George Foreman Grill still smelling like the salmon he'd grilled earlier. The kids had been invited to spend the night at their friends, but he couldn't find one of the sleeping bags, so I put away the groceries, filled the dishwasher and found the sleeping bag. By then it was 9:30 p.m. and I hated to leave my house again.
My reward, though, was a view of the sky just before it fell asleep. The edge of the horizon was still pink, but the islands had become dark blue outlines in the periwinkle water. I dropped off the sleeping bag.
Then took a final look at the sky and the water and thought, "You've seen it. Get back in the car," and went home to finish my paperwork for today's exciting episode of Vacation Bible School.
posted by Melodee at Tuesday, July 13, 2004
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