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The Key to Your Meaning and Fulfillment May Be Found In Your Childhood
I’m excited.
We’re going to grandma and pop-pops house for dinner.
I’m going to have what I always have when I go to their house, I learned it from Uncle George, and it’s now my favorite thing to eat, and I only ever get to eat it at grandma and pop-pops.
Buttered noodles with parmesan and one meatball.
We’re driving up the hill past where my dad gets his tractor fixed; I look at all the tractors in disrepair with fascination.
My sister’s doing whatever I’m learning an older sister does, looking disinterested in everything.
My mom and dad are in the front seats, doing whatever parents do, planning or something.
All is normal; all is quiet until my father starts yelling. My father never, ever yells, and it scares me,
“Turn around! Turn around! Look behind us!”
I do what he says, and that’s when I see it.
For the first time in my seven years of life, I know what it feels like for time to stand still.
A white, flat, angular rocket ship is hunting our Subaru wagon down like a cheetah pursuing an antelope.
