On the way home from the game, we passed a family broken down on the side of the highway. Dad with the hood up, Mom getting something out of the back, two kids with their backs against the highway wall doing some kind of synchronized song routine with arm motions.
I'm exhausted from trying to bring the alley up to code, and my head hurts, so I'm not really up to the full garage sale treatment, but -
If I ever find the story that fits around those kids, I'm going to write it, just to spend time with them.
I am picturing Dad thinking, "That same stupid song that was driving me crazy through three counties is now my salvation, since it will take the kids a good fifteen minutes to go through that routine.* Fifteen minutes where I will know where they are and what they are doing, and where I know they won't be peeking over my shoulder...."
ReplyDelete* Said routine probably on some extremely unwelcome topic such as libellous speculation on the sexual proclivities of all their teachers, or a different gruesome death for each of their classmates.