Today I remembered something about myself and where it came from. This happened at a green light on South Street, the one that turns into the mall. I was sitting in the back seat of my parent's car with Kloe. Mom and Dad were in the front, and Dad was starting the shift in his seat and shake him head. His agitation was so great that he was moved to murmur,"Do you see this traffic? This is going to take forever. Why isn't anyone moving."
I tried to reassure him by saying,"Yeah, the traffic is never that great through here. It will move along eventually."
To which he responded by moving into the left turning lane and winding all the way through the mall parking lot to Brooks street. I looked in the rear window and it was clear the traffic was moving again. But I said nothing.
Dad's "shortcuts" are an interesting memory from childhood(the particular trip I am thinking about happened in Vancouver, Canada), usually ending up in my little brother and I in the backseat miserable and fighting, and Mom and Dad in the frontseat, miserable and fighting (actually, fighting between my parents included my mom having words with Dad, and him going to his happy place). His shortcuts were a surefire way to three extra hours tacked onto any trip.
Today it only added about five extra minutes BUT it made me remember that my own impatience does have roots all the way back to my paternity... and that makes me actually look at this particular flaw with some fondness. I will have to hold on to that feeling the next time I am winding my way through the back streets of Missoula, lost again (as much as you can get lost in this town) because I was too impatient to wait for yet another red light.
I tried to reassure him by saying,"Yeah, the traffic is never that great through here. It will move along eventually."
To which he responded by moving into the left turning lane and winding all the way through the mall parking lot to Brooks street. I looked in the rear window and it was clear the traffic was moving again. But I said nothing.
Dad's "shortcuts" are an interesting memory from childhood(the particular trip I am thinking about happened in Vancouver, Canada), usually ending up in my little brother and I in the backseat miserable and fighting, and Mom and Dad in the frontseat, miserable and fighting (actually, fighting between my parents included my mom having words with Dad, and him going to his happy place). His shortcuts were a surefire way to three extra hours tacked onto any trip.
Today it only added about five extra minutes BUT it made me remember that my own impatience does have roots all the way back to my paternity... and that makes me actually look at this particular flaw with some fondness. I will have to hold on to that feeling the next time I am winding my way through the back streets of Missoula, lost again (as much as you can get lost in this town) because I was too impatient to wait for yet another red light.
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