I totally know better, but I still ordered mobile app Starbucks for drive-thru. It was just E and me in the van, but we wanted others to enjoy the coffee treat too. I texted to see if they wanted some, but didn’t hear back. . .

L and I have wanted to try some of their new oat milk iced lattes, and she had her driver’s test today. I thought I could bring her home a latte that would either be a “Congratulations!” or an”It’s okay! Better luck next time!” latte. I ordered hers without ice in case she wasn’t home yet. I’m considerate like that.

Then Mr. Thought texted to say they had gotten Dunkin.

There was nothing to do about it though, so E and I waited in the drive-thru line for over a half an hour. It’s just funny when you know better but you don’t do better, you know?

“Let’s just remember,” I said –

“Never to go to Starbucks on a Saturday?” E finished.

The thing about being in a line for so long is that you have a lot of time to chat, and to think.

I thought about how I should try to grab a spot and just walk in. But grabbing a spot with the traffic in that parking lot seemed worse than waiting in the line that curved around the building. So instead, we waited.

I wanted to know if L had passed her test. But I knew she’d want to tell me in person. So I just waited.

Finally we were just a few cars away from the window. At the speaker the barista informed me I couldn’t have it without ice because “for that drink, the ice makes the drink.” I maybe should have canceled her drink, since she got her Dunkin, but it was too complicated.

At last we were at the window and our drinks were on the way!

And then I knew why I had to go through the drive-thru today. It was because of the sign that makes me laugh. When I look at it, I think it is saying “Can drive! Can drive! Can drive!” Like a motivational cheer for those in the drive-thru. Last time I was at that window I tried, unsuccessfully to tell the barista why I was laughing.

This time I was able to tell E why I was laughing. I was also able to hope that it was a sign that L did indeed pass her driving test.

Can drive! Can drive! Can drive!

And now, friends, she can! 🙂

I was stopped at a light on a hill on the way to my parents house. The sky is blue today, the sun is bright, the wind is cold and noisey.

I watched as a one of those extra large playground balls rolled down the street toward me. It was weathered and pink and bumpy. I wondered if had been a bright red last spring. I wondered if it would roll into my car, and what the plan was if that happened. Would I need to get out of my car to move it? Would it pop? Could I just push it the mile to my folks’ house? It was too big to fit under the car . . .

I watched it as it skimmed my front bumper, and rolled down past the car behind me. Cars started turning down the road, blocking my view.

“I’ll never know what happens to that ball, or where it came from.” I thought as I continued to my parents’ house with my laundry.

Our washer is broken and the repair place says they can come next week. So until we get it fixed, we bring baskets and bags of laundry to my parents’ house. I don’t care how old you are, if you carry a basket or bag of laundry from your car to your parents basement, you’re basically 19. Even if one of those baskets is your 11 year old’s laundry.

An afternoon of laundry at my parents’ house felt like quiet respite. Maybe I shouldn’t get my washer fixed . . .

My dad made sure I got the settings on the washer correct, since last time I accidentally put the detergent in the spot for bleach.

My mom darned my torn sock. It’s a special sock, Mardi’s sock. I gave her donut socks last year, and after she died, I was given a pair back. These socks are holy to me, but I really don’t want them holey. (You can’t blame me for writing that. Seriously. It had to be said.)

Yea. My mom darned my sock, my dad made me tea, my laundry churned around in the basement. It was quiet. Maybe I shouldn’t get my washer fixed.

I packed up and drove home.

When I stopped at the light on the hill, I started looking out for that weathered playground ball. There is a creek and a park at the bottom of the hill, and I really hoped I’d see it there.

I mean, doesn’t a weathered playground ball deserve to retire on the water? I can imagine it floating around in the sun, playing with the ducks and enjoying the sounds of children at the playground.

But, I didn’t see it anywhere. Not in the street, not in the park, not in a lucky child’s hand.

“I’ll never know what happened to that ball, or where it came from.” I thought as I drove home, wondering about the metaphor of laundry, darning, quiet tea and a lonely lost weathered toy on a windy day.

“I’ll never know.”