Reaching for You

Jumping into my car on a hot summer day in anticipation of meeting friends for an ice cream cone right down the road is one of those quinntesential teen moments that I've been looking forward to all schoolyear. It's a quick five minute drive down the street with only that one intersection to pass through. I've done it a million times now on my way to school, friends' houses, and the store for milk.

I have my new car started, a country song on the radio, and my allowance burning a hole in my wallet. It's the first official day of summer. High school is over and in a few months I'll be off to college and starting my new weekend job. This is the last summer of freedom where I'll be off doing these random Wednesday afternoon adventures. But for now, I'm just excited to see my friends. Nothing else matters.

As I drive down the well-known street between my house and the deliciousness of ice cream awaiting me at Dairy Queen, I come to the intersection. The one that everyone hates, but no one slows down for. The one I've driven carefully through hundreds of times over the years. Starting in my carseat of mom's car through the years until I'm driving my first car of my very own.

As I slow for my turn through the intersection, I can see Dairy Queen sitting like a beacon straight across the street from me. I'm almost to the promise of that cool treat and my group of giggling girlfriends are waiting inside. It's been the same every first day of summer since we were old enough to drive ourselves there.

"I think you should slow down, sweetie," you murmur to me, while your eyes stay trained on the intersection ahead. No inflection in your words, just a simple statement said in your quietly, stoic way.

Turning my head towards you I quickly press the break to slow the car down to a crawling snail speed. I've always listened to your advice, so why stop now. There's a flurry of honks from the drivers behind me at my sudden breaking during a green light. I turn back towards the intersection's green light just in time to see a black truck go speeding throught the red light opposite us. One that was clearly not paying attention, was going way too fast, and would've hit me straight on if I'd been going through the intersection at a normal speed. It doesn't deter the impatient drivers behind me, but leaves me a little shaken at the audacity and stupidity of some people.

"That would've hit me," I murmer as I shakenly finish pulling through the intersection and into the parking lot. I turn to you again with adrenaline running through me and a quiet fear in my eyes. As I go to reach out for your hand, one of my friends comes running out of the building and bangs on my window.

"We just saw that! Are you okay? You could've been hit!" Kate yells through my window. "We were all so worried. Do you need anything? What happened?" Kate has always been a bit loud and demanding. It's impossible to get a word in when she's on a roll like this. But the yelling is already too loud for my shaken attitude.

Opening my door so that she doesn't have to yell anymore, I reply, "Yeah. I'm okay. My grandpa told me to slow down coming through the intersection."

As I turn back to check on you, Kate quietly reminds me, "Sweetie, your grandpa died two months ago."