A Dark and Stormy Night ©
It was a dark and stormy night.
Isn't that the way all good mystery novels are supposed to begin...?
Only, in this case, it was a dark and stormy day. And I sat huddled by the window like a crazed woman who knew something grim was about to happen.
I could feel a sinister threat in the air. My palms were sweating. So was my brow. My feet were cold. I was gripped with fear.
If I'd been a chain-smoker I would have gone through a pack by now.
One hour passed. Then one hour and five minutes. One hour and fifteen minutes. Gawd! The waiting was unbearable! Would he never turn up?!
The rain pelted furiously on the window. The weather matched my depressed and anxious mood.
In my mind I pictured him. He was younger than me. A good man. But inexperienced in these things.
What would be his reaction if I told him he couldn't do it anymore...that there was too much at stake? His future. My future. Our future.
I got up and poured my seventh cup of coffee. It was bitter. I spit it out. He always said he hated my coffee. Now I know why.
Dazed, I wandered in front of the mirror and took a good look at myself. The lines of worry were prominent today. My eyes looked wary, my hair grayer; my mouth trembled as I thought of the independence I must now relinquish to him.
I remembered our good times together. How we laughed in the snow! How we held hands until he asked I not do that in public anymore! How I kissed him goodbye over and over again but still he returned. He said it was because I was a good cook...among other things.
I glanced at my watch. Two hours! Would the waiting never cease?! How much more could a tormented woman stand?!
And then, I heard it! The car in the driveway! My heart skipped a beat. My breathing accelerated!
I raced to the window, absolutely ecstatic with relief. All that driving and still, he made it. The car wasn’t even dented!
It was a miracle.
Our sixteen-year-old son had just returned home from his first driving lesson.