|1954 Chevy Bel-Air|
Howie and Fritz bought their '54 Chevy from the dealer in Pierce, Nebraska after they took driving lessons. It was their first car, and the only vehicle they ever bought new. It was a "pea green" two door Chevy.
After brunch I had missions and errands, an expiring Arboretum membership and expiring shoe store bonus points to tackle. Clicked on WRR, 101.1, Dallas' wonderful classical music station to find an all Mozart playlist for Wolfie's birthday. Suddenly one recording plunged me back a year. There I was sitting at Howie's bedside along with the hospice nurse. Each of us making our own sorts of notations as we watched Dad slowly fail accompanied by Mozart's birthday playlist on WRR.
In one of our dementia rabbit hole conversations, Dad demanded I open his room window then bring the Caddie around. When I pulled up in the Caddie, Dad planned to climb out the window. Together we would light out for parts unknown.
(intr, adverb) Informal to depart quickly, as if being chased
Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003
Dad did not depart quickly. The hospice nurse and I waited, breathed, prayed, drifted, until it was no longer Mozart's birthday. I wrapped the cord around the small radio and placed it in a bag.
© 2013 Nancy L. Ruder