Mostly True Memoirs
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I need to pay attention.
It was entirely my fault.
The Grown Son has a right to be mad.
We live on a triangle-shaped lot.
Which means we have a big back yard.
And absolutely no parking in front.
Every night we have to tetris the cars into the driveway.
My car is the smallest, so it’s always blocked.
Someone has to move their car so I can get out.
Yesterday morning, I wanted to go to the gym.
But I didn’t want to wake up the Grown Son too early.
I waited until 9:00.
He grumbled and complained, but he got up to move his car.
Only to discover that it wasn’t his car blocking mine.
It was his brother’s car.
He was furious that I had woken him up for no reason.
I was furious because the other son had been awake for hours, and I could have been to the gym and back by this time.
If only I had been paying attention.
Now I’m doing the Grown Son’s laundry.
To atone for my sin of waking him up too early on a Sunday morning.
I guess that’s fair.
Next time I’ll pay attention.
Everyone has a story to tell.