Beech Tree News Network

On Wednesday morning of last week, I took my granddaughter, Sabria, to school.  Her mom and stepdad moved to Bowling Green over the summer, and Sabria attends Plano Elementary now.  She wanted me to walk her into the school, so I got into the lane leading to the parking lot, the lane adjacent to the drop-off lane.  At the first stop sign in my lane, Sabria informed me she had a tick on her leg.

“Why do you have ticks in your car, Gee?” she asked.

“I don’t have ticks in my car,” I said, “Sabria, this sign says I can’t turn into the parking lot because of one-way traffic.  Is there another entrance?”

“Yes you do have ticks in your car,” she said, “Cause I just knocked one off my leg!”

“Sabria!” I said, “Where is the other…never mind, I’m holding up the line and I have to go!”

I eased my car forward, following what I hoped was the lane that would take me to the other entrance to the parking lot.  I turned a curve to the right and saw an entrance just as I was slightly past it.  There were cars behind me, and I couldn’t back up, so I made the decision to cut the wheel sharply to the right in order to squeeze through the entrance.  In doing so, I ran upon the concrete curb with the front end of my car.  I couldn’t back up, so I continued over the curb with the middle and rear end of my car, as well, while everybody in the parking lot, in the drop-off lane, and on the sidewalk watched.  Sabria was still looking for the tick.

As I looked for a parking space, I realized the arrows on the pavement were pointing toward me, which meant I was going in the wrong direction.  I stopped the car, so I could have a moment to pull myself together, because I felt my eyes tearing up.  After my initial embarrassment, I began to grow irritated, and I really wanted to have an outburst of anger.  I didn’t.  I didn’t because I remembered myself at seven years old, in the back seat of my stepmom’s car with my sisters.  She backed into a telephone pole then blamed us for not watching for her.  Also, I didn’t, because I had yelled at my own kids for stupid things that weren’t really their fault.  

Sabria noticed I had stopped the car, and I was wiping tears from my eyes.  When I turned to her, she had tears in her eyes.  

“It’s okay,” I said, “This is not your fault.  “I didn’t see the curb, and I’m just worried about the damage to the underside of my car.  Let Gee dry her tears so I don’t look like a bigger idiot than I already appear to be, and I will find a parking space and walk you in.”

I took Sabria into the school, kissed her goodbye, told her I hoped she had a wonderful day, and left her little face smiling as she walked down the hall.  I returned to the parking lot, continued going the wrong way until I found a lane going the right way, made my way back onto Plano road and headed toward Bowling Green.  

On the way home, I thought about how grandchildren give us a do-over, a second chance to get it right.  I thought about how good my stepmom was to my own daughters.  As a grandmother, she was barely recognizable, an exact opposite of the flyswatter-wielding, yelling, blaming, accusing mother who raised me.  We still have our differences, but my children and my granddaughter adore her.  They were her chance to get it right.  And she did.  I’ve always said, I can overlook a lot if you’re good to my children and my dogs.

I plan on taking Sabria to school again, but first I need to do some reconnaissance on the parking lot.  I never did find that blasted tick.  It’s probably hiding out somewhere, waiting for another chance to wreak devastation on my car.