Fine, I said, we'll go to the barbecue. And they didn't want to drive two hours, all of us in a Honda. Too bad, I said, we don't have the van to kick around any more. And they really didn't want to listen to each other's music. Great, I said, we'll listen to mine.
Children grow up, parents get old, but family road trips are still expressways to hell.
Blame for the mishap I blame that, mostly, for the mishap. I hit the car wash. The Honda was a mess. My husband would never have gone to his reunion in a car that dirty. When I drove out dripping, the kids were waiting, grinning.