A couple nights ago, as I was drifting off to sleep, I kept having this image run through my mind. It was of my mom driving her big ol' brown station wagon that she used to have when we were kids. You know the kind, faux wood panelling on the doors, vinyl seats so hot in the summer they would literally give you third degree burns. So, I kept having this picture in my mind of mom driving into the room in the station wagon to pick Craig up. He got into to the front seat and off they went. Where they were going, hell if I know, but she had on her crazy super-fly, rose-tinted sunglasses and was cackling away.
I don't believe in visions, or that mom is going to "come for Craig." But the station wagon does have special significance in our family which is why I think it popped into my mind. Each of our birthdays was never complete until Mom told the story of our birth, from beginning to end, including every contraction, epidural, stitch and swearword. Craig's always began with that damn station wagon. "Well," she'd say. "Once I began labor I called your father to tell him I was heading to the hospital and decided to take the car in to get it worked on since I wasn't going to need it. Boy did their eyes get big when I told them I was in labor and heading to the hospital!" And so the story goes.... Suffice it to say, that was a point of pride for her; practicality above all else. I was re-telling this a couple days ago with Emily here and got to the Craig-had-a-huge-head-so-they-had-to blah, blah, blah part when Craig broke in to say, "I like my head." We all cracked up of course. That giant cranium has definitely proven to be his biggest asset!
D
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