A karaoke voice was singing the chorus loudly on a return trip from mom’s. I had been busy this morning, purging junk from a closet (smashed gift bows, crinkled tissue paper), before taking a Saturday drive to say “hello”, pay mom’s bills and deliver a spring jacket purchased for her earlier in the week. It began to rain before my black pair of Nike’s walked out the door.
Three hours later, I was on the way home. I had not intended to stay that long, except that I forgotten mom needed brandy and vermouth and Polident and Poligrip. Drat! So, mom sent me off to Target and the grocery store. Oh, and while I was out, orders were given to find her an Easter blouse because she wanted something new to wear. Thankfully, the latter mission was accomplished given there is really only one decent department store in the town where she lives.
Anyway, back to the drive home. It was pouring cats and dogs while shopping and the sky let out a thunderous boom at one point. The moist weather did not let up. The crashing of raindrops upon the car window increased in severity five minutes after I hit the highway. The view in front of me was similar to the picture accompanying this post. Perhaps worse. The speedometer read 25 mph less than the usual lead-foot speed of dry road. The gray of the rain, the gray of the sky had no separation. It mingled together, only interrupted by breaklights, headlights, and white dots on the concrete. Added to the mess was a stretch of road construction, where the lanes are made narrow by a series of jersey barriers. My fingers gripped tighter on the steering wheel and the usual comfort that comes with having driven for many years, allowed anxiety to slip in. It’s funny how, as I get older, bad-weather driving unnerves more than it did when I was in the fearless twenties.
The heavy pouring rain continued, while I heard the faint sounds of Earth, Wind and Fire on the car radio. “Crank it up!” the brain cells told me.
“Ba de ya – say do you remember
Ba de ya – dancing in September
Ba de ya – never was a cloudy day”
Apparently, the song was not written on a day like today. The voice sang louder, a left foot tapped on the floor, the driver of the car that passed on the left gave me a funny look (eyes on the road mister!), and the karaoke singer drove through the last of the cats and dogs.
I made it home in one piece…thanks to a song from 1978, an anxious, careful driver and a prayerful request earlier that day to keep me safe. I had to make it home safe so a return trip to mom’s can be made next Saturday and so I can return to the closet purging in a few minutes.
Which leads me to ask, dear readers, does anyone need a grayish-white Coca-Cola bear or a bag of craft moss?
(PS: A few seconds after I published, WordPress informed this was my 200th post. Wow, I’m a little chatty. Anyhow, please celebrate with me by writing a post of your own or having a piece of chocolate cake.)