The Summer of Our (Dis)Content

The Summer of Our (Dis)Content

“Hurry up lady,” momma says to the woman in the other car as we zip past her in our hurry to get home. The lady is singing a tune, nodding her head, and casually driving down the road. I look at momma – she looks like the same woman who espouses the virtues of patience. Maybe she doesn’t have patience for women in green Subarus. “Sheesh Mattie, she’s going so slow we’ll never make it home in time.” In time for what? I thought we were just going home after an afternoon in the park. I balance myself on the passenger seat of our little blue VW convertible bug and stick my head out of the side window, taking in the cool breeze, watching the trees as we pass, smiling at the people we pass and feeling the sunshine on my head. We pass by my neighbor Egor’s house and I sniff extra hard to try to catch a scent of his wired hair coat – Egor is a large Airedale and he’s forever running down to the beach and getting dirty, so he smells fantastic. We pull in to our little garage and momma flings open her door, “finally,” she says as she exits the car, lets me out, and then slams the door shut. Once inside the house momma flops on the couch and opens up a magazine. I look at momma. I think about the lady we zipped past. I wonder if she’s still singing her song – she looked happy just driving along. Momma, well, she looks frazzled. I guess that’s what big plans like...

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