Like most writers, I started with short stories. Unlike most writers, that didn’t last too long. I could never wrap my brain around a ‘shorter content’. I always felt unfinished or it should be a part of something else. One day, the idea for my first novel come to mind. I knew how I wanted the story to begin and how I wanted it to end. The rest, well let’s just say, I knew it would evolve. And, it did. By my thirteth birthday, I had a complete novel. It was a present to myself. Now, three novels and a complete screenplay later, the thought of short anything is not even comprehendable.
Recently something triggered the memory of a short stories I had written long ago. It was about a father teaching his son to drive. Oh, it was awful. I tried so hard to parallel the ‘Rules of the Road’ to the ‘Road of Life’. I failed miserably. Blatantly obvious is the only way to describe my comparisons. Luckily the piece is either at the bottom of some drawer or burned in a fit of desperation.
Now, the point of this back story - my son is driving.
I’m certain those who have – been there, done that - remember the spectrum of emotion that accompanies such an event. Although he was hesitant at first, the advantages of driving are becoming fast apparent. Not as fast as his driving, though, but that’s another anxiety attack.
Last night my son was driving home and we stopped for gas. I, of course, had to be the one to pump it. I’m not ready to give up the credit card just yet. I was also informed that the part about pumping gas is in segment 2 of Driver’s training. Funny, eh?
Across the way, a man was doing the same. But what caught my eye was his adorable little girl sitting in the driver’s seat, pretending to drive. The father didn’t realize the magnitude of the situation for me. Hell, he probably wanted to be done faster, hoping that she didn’t hit some wrong button, activating something that no adult knew how to reverse. I didn’t want to be done fast at all. For one brief moment, I thought of doing the whole – catching his attention, saying “before you know it … ,” then motion with my head to where my son was seated.
I didn’t. I hate it when other’s do that to me. Besides, this moment was all mine and I wanted to keep it that way.