Sometimes, especially in the early hours of my day, I forget things. Mostly I forget things like overdue movie rentals and library books, but today I pulled a bigger stunt and forgot my phone and my wallet. I remembered this as I was in my car in the parking garage, but as I was just barely going to make it to class on time if I sped out of the garage immediately, I decided to just go to school without these things for the day. Plus, I figured I could swing back by and pick them up before my class at DH.
Well, when I got on the freeway I realized that I was almost out of gas -- I had maybe thirty miles to go. That's okay, I thought with my exhausted 7AM brain, I'll just get gas on the way to DH.
After the most boring class in the universe ended at 10:30AM, I split to get to DH in time to print out the materials for class. I passed the Chevron on Harbor without a further thought, and as I was trying to merge into traffic I happened to look down at my digital fuel reading: 2 Miles. I instantly get a sinking feeling in my bones, as the last thing I need is to run out of gas on the 91 FWY and have to call AAA...so I exit Brookhurst in a kind of controlled panic, and plead for my car to make it to the Chevron on Orangethorpe. I make it! Yay! I pull out my...my...I don't have my wallet.
I at least have a car phone, a hands-free cell phone built into my car's system, and I called my Mom, who drove over from Whittier and rescued me and gave me $45 worth of gas (10 gallons worth).
As I sat in my car and waited for my Mom to arrive, I thought of how much driving is a part of my life, and how much I take it for granted. I began to be ashamed of myself when I discovered I was a little bit scared that I could be stranded (Todd was in Sacramento today) with no money and no way to contact anyone. I mean, I think I remember how to collect-call someone -- and I think I have at least a couple of phone numbers memorized...actually, I would have been really out of luck. I guess I could have walked back to FC from the gas station and tried to find Blythe, or maybe I would have had to convince Phil that I was worth giving twenty dollars to (I swear I've met Phil at least five times), or maybe I would've had to walk the seven miles to my brother's house.
That would have taken a while.
If we ever have to give up our vehicles we are going to grieve. We are going to feel lost. Of course there is always relief when we lose our attachments, but shoot if it isn't a little bit frightening to think about.
2 comments:
I am going to write a blog similar to the idea of six degrees of separation in which I trace the strands of similarities that connect all of my loved ones together. That blog could have been written by my darling mother in law. Or my husband, minus the fear.
In this one particular thing, we are not alike. I am so paranoid that I have actually NEVER in my life forgotten my phone, wallet nor have I ever run out of gas.
Hence tomorrow probably all three things will happen.
I have never actually run out of gas. I have almost run out of gas on approximately three occasions.
Forgetting my wallet (or leaving it in another -- fabulous -- purse, or jacket pocket) is rather common; I would say it happens to me once every two months. I forget my phone even more often, perhaps something like once a week. That is mostly due to forgetting that it's on the charger.
On the other hand, I have a very strong memory for events where I feel something. If there is a feeling attached to the memory, then I can remember it for several years, even decades. Just last weekend I was walking by the Long Beach Arena by my house and there were these vividly orange coloured blossoms that were scattered on the grey concrete steps I was walking up and I thought it was so beautiful my heart wanted to break. I don't know if I'll ever forget those moments.
Your brain continues to astound me. You are, by far, the SMARTEST and MOST BRILLIANT person I know. And if I have to keep up this blog just to continue to tell you so, I shall. I don't know anyone who has such awesome insights into art AND has the mind that can peer into and speak about theory so well. You can speak well for yourself -- it's a gift and a talent and something that you have earned. It's magical.
P.S. -- And I wasn't that scared; I amped up the scary bits to make it a better story. I was more concerned about causing someone else, like my mom, the inconvenience of coming to rescue me.
Post a Comment