Driven by Love

| April 07, 2005

by Maggie Saunders

My husband Sandy and I sat at our weathered pine table, smiling lazily at each other, as the girls finished their homework. The last of the afternoon sun streamed down through the kitchen window. I stood and collected our empty hot chocolate mugs and headed over to the sink.

“What does everyone feel like for dinner?” I asked, the telephone on the wall suddenly drowning out my words.

I set the mugs in the sink and grabbed the receiver. “Hi. This is a surprise,” I said as I heard my mom’s voice on the other end. “Is everything OK?”

“Hello, sweetheart, we’re at home, safe and sound. Everything’s fine. Three months was long enough for our first time out. Are the girls there? We’ve really missed them.”
“Sure mom, I’ll get them. We’ve all missed you as well.”

While she chatted to the girls, I heated up some leftover stew and popped the biscuits into the oven. Ten minutes later dinner was ready and the girls were finished catching Mom up on their news.

Taking the receiver back, I said, “Feel like company tonight or do you want to wait until tomorrow?”

“Coffee’s already on and Dad and I are just having an omelet for dinner. Why don’t you all come over when you’re done eating?” she asked.

“Great, we’re just sitting down; we’ll be over in an hour.”

Sitting down to eat, we talked about Mom and Dad.

“Remember how excited Dad was when he kissed his W900L farewell in June?” I laughed.

“He danced all the way down to the Winnebago dealer,” Sandy said. “Remember the look on his face when he slid behind the wheel, dragging Mom with him? He was finally going to show her all the places he’d been. Finally be able to explore all those places he couldn’t get the truck into or didn’t have time to stop and see.”

“Come on, girls. Let’s eat up and head over,” I said.

The four of us gulped down our meal, ran to the car and raced over to their house.
In between hugging and laughing and making drinks it took 20 minutes before we calmed down enough to listen to each other. Both of them told us of their adventures and mishaps.

“Dad actually got lost a few times,” Mom joked. “I ended up guiding us through L.A. That was pretty scary.”

He looked up, puzzled for a moment. Then, with a faint smile, he said, “I don’t think so. Now you’re just pulling their legs. I know that city inside out. I’ve been going there for over 30 years.”

Trying to ease the sudden tension, I answered, “Age does that to all of us. Just the other day I forgot which road turned up to the dentist’s office.”

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