Saturday, July 23, 2011

And The Moth Along For The Ride

It's time, you say. Past time, I say, let's get going. Put the top down on the car and don't forget my pillow. Kiss the kids and leave them some money for dinner. Pet the dogs and say goodbye.

We are off, your right hand clasped with my left. Point the car towards directions north and drive, drive, drive.

We arrive at the hotel in the waning summer light, grinning from ear to ear, happy to be together, proud to have almost 18 years tucked into our belts, celebrating a few weeks early due to schedules of our now grown up selves, but still dreamily in love with each as much as our kids selves had been.

Pull the top up over our heads, latch the roof, kiss and get out of the car. Stand at the trunk and stare at the giant moth flapping around in the back window.

Holy Moley. That thing was in the car with us. You try to catch it to let it out safely, but it resists. When you finally put it on the pavement, you shake your head. You tried, but it's probably done for. I feel sad that it is hurt and dying, and even though moths freak the crap out of me, I step closer to look at it with pity.

And then it flutters towards my foot.

And then I scream.

And then you laugh and turn it so it gets its feet under it and it takes off.

It'll be okay, you say as we watch it fly. That's a much better way to start off our trip, I say. Just picking up hitchhikers, not killing 'em.

I don't think I'll ever put the top up again, without checking the back and having the door open for easier escape!

1 comment:

  1. Very nice. I like your writing style in this post. Sorry about the moth, though! Yuck!