March 7, 2014
by Mrs. McGriff
I’m taking part in the weekly Slice of Life Challenge sponsored by Two Writing Teachers, where teachers write and share each Tuesday. Join in yourself or head over to check out what’s happening with other slicers. If you’re taking part in the SOL, leave a link to your post. I’d love to read it.
I don’t think so. It’s more like one of those good news/bad news stories that started a few weeks ago.
One of the many snowstorms of this winter cancelled the Winter Semi-Formal on Valentine’s Day. No matter how loudly my daughter shouted at the clouds, they kept shaking down snowflakes to cover the roads. Too bad the rescheduled dance was the same night as swimming divisionals.
“No problem,” I said. ”Would you like to go watch your boyfriend swim that night since you can’t go to the dance?”
After school we headed to piano lessons, hoping we could be done and on the road in time to make it to the swim meet. As we were chatting in the car, I forgot to turn off and soon realized that we were almost home instead of at piano. Oops. A quick turn around in a nearby driveway got us back on track. After I dropped my daughter off, I did head all the way to home to pick up the forgotten checkbook.
Then we were on the road again. As we drove through the next town, we planned to stop to pick up dinner. Once again, we were busily chatting and not paying. Did we pass Wendy’s? I think so. I pull off the highway to turn around again–this time fighting against five lanes of traffic filled with people eager to get home on a Friday evening. I circle around the block and realize that we hadn’t past Wendy’s after all. We hadn’t gone far enough.
We finally get back in the car with bags of cheeseburgers, fries and a cheesy baked potato. Then the text comes from the boyfriend: Turn around. You’re not going to make it before I swim. I glance at the clock–6:00–and then my daughter. ”I thought the meet didn’t start until six.” We decide since we’ve come this far, we might as well see if we can make the end of the race.
Once again I pull into traffic and head for the unfamiliar scholl. A flurry of texts from the passenger seat confirms that we just might make the final race if we hurry. We rush through the doors of the middle school to find a long line waiting to buy tickets. Why would this many people be in line for a swim meet that’s almost over?
We find out after we buy our tickets and head to the door of–not the pool–but the auditorium. The program confirms it. There’s a play going on at the same school tonight. We rush back to the ticket table and explain that we are looking for the swim meet. Thank goodness they refunded our tickets and pointed us in the direction of the pool.
This time we dash through the parking lot to get back in the car to drive to the pool on the other side of the building. Another run across another parking lot finally gets us to the right door. Yes! The smell of chlorine assures us we are in the right spot at last.
We find seats with friends and learn that the boyfriend’s race isn’t over yet. In fact there are several heats to go before his begins. Since each race is 500 meters, we have plenty of time.
We may have had a few wrong turns before we got home, but there was nothing wrong with time spent with my daughter-even if our conversation caused a few detours.