Mom took the lessons, passed the required tests, and kept her driving to daylight and good weather.
When she finally showed me her license, I cried.
Ryan suddenly found the fruit bowl fascinating.
Mom hugged me.
“I knew you’d be proud eventually.”
“I was always proud.”
“You were horrified.”
“Both can be true, Mom.”
“I was always proud.”
***
A week later, she bought a small used Toyota.
That should’ve been the end of it.
Instead, things got stranger.
“Can you take me grocery shopping Tuesday?” Mom asked.
I looked through her kitchen window at the Toyota in the driveway.
“You own a car now.”
That should’ve been the end of it.
“I hate that parking lot.”
“Then what are you using the car for?”
Mom picked up her mug.
“Driving.”
“Where?”
“Around.”
“Then what are you using the car for?”
***
I usually picked Mom up for Sunday breakfast. For four weeks, I’d find the Toyota warm in her driveway.
