by Lorri Leigh
My car was in the shop for repairs and we had to share my husband’s SUV. I no-ticed that whenever we went anywhere together, he never relinquished his leather-head-rested-throne.
I think I drive perfectly, he thinks not. He says I don’t brake soon enough, drive too fast—he exaggerates!
We hit a bump in the road during one of our monthly shopping trips, partly be-cause I’m unfamiliar with the roads.
We stopped at four different stores and somehow we changed seats. Wonder of all wonders, I ended up driving.
He’s great at a lot of things, giving driving directions is not one of them. He emulates a crossing guard, using his hands and arms to show direction, rather than just saying, turn left or turn right.
We were headed to our last store, on a busy road, when I simply asked which lane to get in. Mr. Crossing Guard signaled with a straight arm and pointed straight ahead.
“Which lane?” I asked again as I inched toward an intersection.
“Stay in the middle lane!” he snapped as he pointed to one of the four lanes ahead.
There was no middle lane!
I was driving at a turtle’s pace waiting for an answer from the crossing guard. Drivers were blowing their horns!
He was gripping the handle over his door so tightly his knuckles where whites. I drove through the intersection and asked, “Which way am I turning next?” I thought I would get the answer I was looking for—either left or right.
“Left,” he gritted out.
I got in the left lane and drove until I saw the grocery store, pulled in, parked, and got out with smoke pouring out of my ears. Public displays of anger are gauche, so I just stomped into the store without waiting for him.
I found what we needed and checked out. On the way out, I handed him the keys. “You’re not going to drive?” he asked. I gave him the “you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me” look.
There was a definite chill in the SUV on the drive home.
He took all the purchases into the house in 90 degree weather.
That night, he made dinner for me. That’s something he rarely does. It was his way of apologizing for snapping at me.
If I had waited for a verbal apology, we both would have been traveling in different directions. It would have caused tension and derision… things I don’t want in my marriage.
Life’s road is loaded with far too many pot holes and bumps. Worrying about all the small stuff puts up too many roadblocks and causes too many detours.
We have to enjoy the ride, friends.