It’s been an interesting few days getting ready for college. I’m all set to leave in a few hours, with plastic bins and reusable bags stuffed to the brim with the things I’ve collected over the years. Outside, my dad kneels next to the car, checking for leaks.
I am incredibly lucky.
On Saturday, my mom dropped me off at work as usual, driving her big SUV. Some five hours later, she picked me up in the smaller car and recounted how, after exiting the mall lot, in the middle of intersection ready to turn, the car stopped moving. So there she was, very much stuck at the traffic light. She immediately called the police so they could direct traffic around her, or at least offer some level of safety. Meanwhile, a thirty-something year old man pulled up beside her.
“Hey, let me give you a push,” he said.
My mom hopped back in the car, and let his car push her back into the mall parking area. It must have been quite a scene, seeing a little yellow car with a dad, a wife, and two small children pushing a big SUV as if playing a real life game of bumper cars.
(That’s how I understood it anyway. After reading this post, my mom informed me that the man pushed her car with his hands, not his car. I still think the image is funny.)
Gone was the car that was supposed to take me to college. Lucky for us, it didn’t break down when we were driving to Woods Hole earlier that week, or when my mom was driving to and from teaching Pilates, and I made it to work on time. The axle was broken, the shop later informed us, so Plan B was to take the smaller car to transport me and my belongings to college.
Monday and Tuesday I spent running last-minute errands and packing. On Tuesday, it was clear that it wasn’t my day. In the morning, while emptying the contents of my desk, I knocked over a little tin box, raining confetti onto the floor and myself. I spent the next ten minutes picking it up. On the way down the stairs, I slipped on the bottom step, scaring my sister in the process. On the way to the bank, I fell off my bicycle and bruised my knee.
The best part, however, happened later that evening. We had been informed that the car was fixed, so my family drove out to the shop to pick it up. I was staring absentmindedly out the window when suddenly I felt something moving in my mouth. My fake tooth, implanted not two weeks before, had fallen out! So at seven p.m. on my last night at home, I was calling the emergency dentist line to see if they could fix it before I left for college. Did I mention I still had laundry to do?
Fortunately, everything worked out in our favor. After my brother and sister left for their first day of school, I went to the dentist, who re-cemented the tooth (with a stronger glue).
Now I’m about to load the car, excited to start this new adventure. Due to the events of the past few days, my jitters are slightly different from what one would normally expect from a newly minted college freshman. But as everyone has always told me, everything always works out in the end.
Zivling 