And Then She Said. . .

563409_3560430205837_702903385_nSnow fell Monday. It started light and not much at two p.m. Husband called to say driving was fine. I was twenty minutes away with my grandest. We played, made Mac and Cheese, she ate the whole single serve–white cheddar with a cup of blueberry applesauce for dessert. The snow continued and covered the lawn. Daughter calls at 7 to say I should sleep over. I’m thinking it’s not bad and I’ll drive home. She says it’s terrible, she can’t see the road and I’m tired and just want to get home with the mind set of husband’s call at 2 when the roads were fine.

Here’s the part where it gets serious. Daughter hurries in, sees me wearing a little vest over a sweater and she says to our little girl, “Get your boots on honey, we’re gong to follow Grans home.” Protesting, I get in my car which she cleans off and away we go twenty miles an hour. My heart begins to pound. A Mustang ahead of me is skidding all over and I’m scared. Do I call her and say let’s turn around and I’ll stay at your home where we’re safe? NO! All the while I’m worried about the turn on to Crooked Hill Road aptly name where my car gets stuck.

My daughter, calm, a problem solver, comes to my car window and asks me to get into her car with grandest and wait while she flags down a snow angel who comes to the rescue. He not only get my car home but makes sure her tank is full before she leaves. Thanks, Anthony.

I sit in my living room and think. There’s a time in a parent’s life when they give up a bit of control to an offspring who is looking out for her benefit. Role reversal? No. But I’m so grateful to know my daughter and granddaughter care enough to watch over me the way I’ve always cared and watched over them.

5 thoughts on “And Then She Said. . .

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