In the interest of getting to know who I am, I’m sharing stories from my life. I call them Preliminary Files and I hope you enjoy them.
One night my dad was driving us over to my grandma and grandpa’s house and he pulled the car over to the side of the road and we got out.
It was pitch black dark and we were looking off the hill at all the lights of the city down below. It smelled like boiling weeds.
He said, “There’s your grandma’s house right there.” I had no idea how to judge where he was pointing.
He picked up a rock about the size of my head, started the car from a standing position and reached in and laid the rock on the gas pedal. The engine revved. He jerked the shift knob into gear and the car went hurling off the side of the mountain, crashing loudly over rocks and crushing small trees.
Dad said, “Come on,” reaching for my hand, “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
We walked and when I asked why we just sent the car over the hill, my dad answered with a response he would use often as I grew. “You’re too young to understand. You’ll get it some day.”
(My Lesson: We are probably never too young. And; there’s a chance that you’ll never “get” some things. That’s why the word mystery exists.)