Locally known as Larry the Luddite, I am the navigator for these annual trips. No GPS – some still have you turn south onto north bound lanes. No smart phones, I didn’t want directions from Google Earth to Middle Earth.
I turned to face my son, Trevor, in the back seat who’d been tapping me on the shoulder.
“Yes, I’m sure she’s the girl in that back seat signing us before. I suppose you want your mom to speed up to her parent’s car so you can talk some more?”I signed him. Typical teenager, typical wife; neither one had to even think about. I checked my seat belt.
Trevor and the girl he fancied were travelling back from the Conference in the SAME car. For the sake of my nerves, not for the state of their romance.
FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER: WEEK #17 – 2016 by Roger Shipp