I remember turning 16. I don't remember if I had a party, though i assume I did. I don't remember what I wore or where we went. I don't remember any of the adolescent drama that I'm sure seemed tres important at the time, but I do remember...
Rushing home from school to get in our family's old Chrysler LeBaron station wagon to go get my drivers license. I remember waiting in anxiously in the car to Take my behind the wheel test afraid of parallel parking between cones. I remember making sure I knew how to do a 3 point turn. I remember these things across the expanse of time. A car meant freedom or a little of it. It meant, going to the movies with friends, the mall, swim team practice, etc. It meant my mom no longer had to shuttle me everywhere.
This past Tuesday I awoke with that sense of anxiety, anticipation, joy at what the day held. I was off my pain meds and thus could drive again. We'd agreed we'd pick up my car after PT. My mom worried and fretted probably not unlike when I was 16. Still I drove us to PT, just to check. All good we proceeded to pick ip my car. That little bit of freedom, independence returned to me. I was so happy, I couldn't stop smiling. My car, the ability to drive, I will never take it for granted again.
On (the) Line Quilt
4 days ago