Finally Home
Thank God.
On rubberband legs, I pull myself from my mother's car. I've sat almost continuously for the past 16 hours. I breath deeply from the fresh air outside the car. My lungs almost ache from it's purity. Inside the car, it's been a constant onslaught of second hand cigarette smoke and exhaust fumes from the minute we left my brother's driveway. I casually brush the ashes from my legs when I notice them. Somewhere along the way, my mother's ash tray that she kept precariously perched on her dash board had vibrated off the dash and landed on the floor. Most of it, anyway. Part of it blown all over my by the blast of air coming from my mother's wide open window. Too miserable to say a word, I look away in disgust.
Several times during this brief trip I've had to look away from my mother in disgust. It's still baffling to me, however, that she does not know just how disgusting she really is. Such a drama queen, she will make things up if she doesn't have anything interesting to capture everyone's attention with. Heat stroke on the way down, puking on the side of the road as we try to shop, fainting spells in the Wal Mart restroom, peeing her pants in my brother's living room. The one thing that just makes my skin crawl, after she supposedly peed her pants, she left her shorts and underwear hanging in the hall from my brother's vacuum cleaner, underwear on top, for the world to see just what a sick pig she really is.
I can't believe that I came from this woman.
I'm standing outside the car, with my belongings, clutching my cell phone. My mother is pissed right off at me, and I have no idea what I did. I just stand there, hoping that my ride will get there soon. She has decided that she will not be driving any farther with me in the car. For that, I am dearly thankful. I hear the deafening roar of her car coming to life. I glance up from the spot on the pavement that I have been staring at for the past few minutes in quiet reflection. She backs up and peals out of the parking lot as fast as she can get that car to go. Tiny stones and specks of debris hit the exposed flesh of my legs and arms. The skin starts to sting, and I look around behind me for my ride. I see him coming, he's still down the road a ways, but he's there.
Thank God.
On rubberband legs, I pull myself from my mother's car. I've sat almost continuously for the past 16 hours. I breath deeply from the fresh air outside the car. My lungs almost ache from it's purity. Inside the car, it's been a constant onslaught of second hand cigarette smoke and exhaust fumes from the minute we left my brother's driveway. I casually brush the ashes from my legs when I notice them. Somewhere along the way, my mother's ash tray that she kept precariously perched on her dash board had vibrated off the dash and landed on the floor. Most of it, anyway. Part of it blown all over my by the blast of air coming from my mother's wide open window. Too miserable to say a word, I look away in disgust.
Several times during this brief trip I've had to look away from my mother in disgust. It's still baffling to me, however, that she does not know just how disgusting she really is. Such a drama queen, she will make things up if she doesn't have anything interesting to capture everyone's attention with. Heat stroke on the way down, puking on the side of the road as we try to shop, fainting spells in the Wal Mart restroom, peeing her pants in my brother's living room. The one thing that just makes my skin crawl, after she supposedly peed her pants, she left her shorts and underwear hanging in the hall from my brother's vacuum cleaner, underwear on top, for the world to see just what a sick pig she really is.
I can't believe that I came from this woman.
I'm standing outside the car, with my belongings, clutching my cell phone. My mother is pissed right off at me, and I have no idea what I did. I just stand there, hoping that my ride will get there soon. She has decided that she will not be driving any farther with me in the car. For that, I am dearly thankful. I hear the deafening roar of her car coming to life. I glance up from the spot on the pavement that I have been staring at for the past few minutes in quiet reflection. She backs up and peals out of the parking lot as fast as she can get that car to go. Tiny stones and specks of debris hit the exposed flesh of my legs and arms. The skin starts to sting, and I look around behind me for my ride. I see him coming, he's still down the road a ways, but he's there.
Thank God.
@ 5:28 PM
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