Hejira
don't it always seem to go...
May 12. 2000, part one



I had to drive up to Wilkes-Barre today to pick up my grandparents. Before I did that I had to stop by the Unnamed Computer Company Where I Wish To Be Employed This Summer to drop off my application. They've been incerdibly slow getting back to me and contacting me about various stuff, so I'm expecting they'll be just as slow getting back to me for this. I really want to work at this Unnamed Computer Company, because not only is the pay excellent but it means getting some computer skills that could serve me well job-wise when I make my way into the world as a starving artist.

The drive up to Wilkes-Barre was pleasant enough, I took the van, which not only mean cruise control and a ride as smooth as silk, but a cd player and a top notch sound system. Yum. Such a music whore I am. I listened to Susan Werner and then Rasputina.

I wasn't anticipating the drive back, because I had to drive my grandparents' Taurus, because it's the only car my grandfather can easily get in and out of and into his wheelchair. The car itself isn't bad, it's just my grandparents HATE having music on while driving (arrgh) and the speedometer (get this) only went up to 85.

This was pretty unprecedented because every other car I have driven in my short existence went up to at least 100 mph. I had to deal with the fact that I went allllll the way to the right on the speedometer. A strange sense of power, I tell you. My grandfather, who was sitting on the passenger side next to me, frequently glanced over at the speedometer and announced to my grandmother in the back seat, "She's going 80, Lo!" (Lo is my grandmother's nickname, short for Lolie, which is short for Rosalie, her name) and then to me: "You'd better slow down to 65, otherwise you're gonna get pulled over."

After we got home, my grandmother suggested we go out to eat, so we went out to Friendly's. As we were sitting there waiting for our food, I was suddenly struck by the preciousness of this moment. Maybe it was because of my grandmother's diagnosis last week, but I finally realized that the time I had with them was very finite.

I had always been looking for those moments in my life, the truly important ones, the ones worth writing down and keeping and preserving for all time. I didn't really start to appreciate how wonderful my grandparents are until maybe a year ago. And then I look back at all the selfish things I've done to them and the mean things I've said to them and I feel like such a damn fool. I had to look away then and almost started crying when it struck me how much I love them and what amazing people they are, and how lucky I am to have them.

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