Jillie’s Ride HomePosted: July 18, 2009
Jillian got dropped off at her daddy’s office at the end of the day Wednesday, so her mama and twin brother could go visit Nay Nay, her other grandmother. Jillie usually gets to go to Nay Nay’s mid-week so there’s a gathering of three generations of girls, but this time, Hardy got to go with the women, and Jillie went to Daddy’s MojoLoco.
They drove home by the reservoir and down busy Lake Harbor Drive. Many evenings, Jillie’s dad calls me on his commute to catch up. It’s called multi-tasking.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Nothing much. Driving home from work down Hillsboro Road.”
“What’ve you been doing?”
“I visited a new critique group last night, and my book order has shipped — I’m expecting 600 books to arrive on my front porch.”
“RRAAAAA!” Jillie is not one to tune up or have thoughts about crying. She just outright yells out painfully loud. “RRAAAAA!” And the first sound is as loud as the last one.
“What’s she crying about?”
“She doesn’t like to stop. We’re sitting at a red light.”
Then, instant silence.
“You heard anything more on Steve McNair?”
“No, nothing more.”
“I had to go to Hattiesburg this morning on business, so I took the opportunity to drive over to Mt. Olive to see his grave. It’s just a small stone with his name and the dates. Nothing special.”
“It’s OK Jillie, we’ll be rolling in a minute.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She doesn’t like to stop. It’s another red light.”
“We’re moving now. How’s Mamaw?”
“Her back hurts, her eyesight is fading, and she’s having a colonoscopy next Monday.”
“Jillie, Daddy can’t run a red light. Just a minute, just a minute, and we’ll be going.”
And so it was, all the way home, Jillie yelled at every red light — every time the car stopped — and sat sweetly and silently as the car moved.