Here are our unedited 10 minute free writes.
Driving (1920) by Madelyn
Oh! the excitement of cars.
Our first one?
A Pierce Arrow; five to six passengers, a canvas, roll down roof, large, wide apart head lights, a fur lap robe, the smell of leather.
It was brown, dusty brown, “ready to blend into the passing landscape,” my father said.
Camouflaged so as not to scare a visiting moose, deer or a bunch of wild grouse.
We would sit in it and wait...camera or hunting gun in hand.
One thrilling moment somewhere near Edgartown, on a quiet road, the
last Heath Hen scampered by.
My father, an ornithologist, was thrilled. He knew there was one and ONLY ONE Heath Hen left on Martha’s Vineyard and here it was.
Oh! valiant bird! No chance to make love or have a family.
Good bye extinct Heath Hen.
You tried.
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Driving (1997) by Barbara
The sight of the white Toyota Camry station wagon disappearing down the driveway gave me a sick feeling in my stomach.
For sixteen years I was at the wheel with Carrie in the passenger seat next to me or in the back. I was the driver. Now, after hours with her at the wheel and with me or David giving instruction, encouragement, warnings and occasional yelps as she veered too much to one side of the road of the other, she was on her own.
As I watched her drive away, I hoped the other drivers on the road would be kind. I hoped Carrie would keep both hands on the steering wheel as we had instructed and not fool with the radio dials. I hoped she’d find her way and not get lost.
Most of all, I prayed she’d return again safely, without incident.
Suddenly cars, which were such a part of our suburban life, seemed dangerous. Each large, metal, gas powered machine is at the whim of the driver; old or young, distracted or careful.
It’s all a game of chance, letting our children go. There’s no guarantee as we loosen our watchful grip and set them free. To have children venture out into the world with confidence is every parents’ goal. To watch it happen is a reason for celebration but not without a bit of trepidation.
3 comments:
What wonderful stories and thought processes. I can only imagine how hard it will be for Sarah and John when Margaret is at the wheel. Madeline's words are so smooth and poetic. Each piece painted a wonderful picture in my head.
Common threads? The smell of leather! Ah, the smell of leather. I love her memories floating back over the years. I wonder if M would have done that while her husband was still alive?
Oh, the roads that free writing (and cars) take us down.
Poor Heath Hen, indeed! As extinct as the Pierce Arrow, these days.
And children and driving... yeah. Maybe w can keep raising her in HK where she won't have to drive?
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