Today as I was working, something sparked a memory of my dad teaching me to drive. At the time of these lessons, I was only 15 and my dad would take me to dirt roads to teach me to drive. I always looked forward to the lessons as we walked out the door to get into the car but somewhere along the road, my frame of mind always changed. We would only be gone a few hours but as I look back, I can honestly say learned a lot during those short times together.
Bless Daddy, he wasn’t the most patient man. In fact, he did a lot of stomping the floor and twitching while he was in the passenger seat. It wasn’t because I was a bad driver but more because HE wasn’t in control of the vehicle.
There was usually a constant banter between us that consisted of him giving me directions in a pained tone and me saying, “I know!” The longer we stayed out, the worse Daddy’s nerves became and the more he fussed at me. The more he fussed, the more I fumed and pouted until I would eventually drive into our yard, get out without saying a word, and stomp into the house to flop down onto the sofa.
More times than not, Mama was there waiting for our return with an amused expression on her face. At first, I didn’t notice her expression but after a month or so, I asked her why she was smiling. As I pouted, sprawled on the sofa in my usual position, she gave me the answer. “Well, you two leave here every weekend to have driving lessons. Every weekend, one of you comes back mad and the other comes back crying.”
Needless to say, at 15 I didn’t see the funny side. Mama was a smart cookie. She understood that all of the emotional stuff was just a rite of passage and that in the end, it would all come out in the wash.
Now, I find myself waiting with anticipation for the time when it is my turn to sit in the passenger seat and stomp the floor for the nonexistent break pedal while my son learns to drive. Yes, I fully expect for one of us to come back mad and the other to be crying. I also suspect my son will eventually cherish these memories as much as I do.
It’s amazing how much the small things like Mama’s comment and Daddy’s willingness to continue the lessons have come to mean to me. I think I’ll make a point of making more memories with my son.
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