catch up on the weekend
still kind of ill. cough cough mucus cough
[2012.11.14][622][21182]
The clunking of the garage door opening signalled the return of her parents. It was wonderful to be so accustomed by the noises of the street she had grown up on that she could pick out that sound. The dorm hall she lived in in comparison to other dorms was fairly quaint, but near enough to the quad and the big lecture halls that most of the time there was a constant low roar of human conversation in her ears, even in her room at night.
Beth stretched out on the bed, wriggling her arms and toes, attempting to get her blood flowing again. Cooking with her Mom and Dad could easily turn into a contact sport, depending on Mom’s mood. Mom was fairly protective of the kitchen, and the various utensils and items related to kitchen use. On the other hand, Dad found Mom’s protectiveness to be a source of endless joy.
She headed towards the rustling of paper bags and on into the kitchen area. Dad’s jacket was thrown carelessly onto a dining room chair. Next to the refrigerator, stood her parents, holding each other as if they were slow dancing. What they lacked for in talent, they made up for in clinging. Beth took a second to smile at the two of them: they had an easy playfulness about them as they held each other.
“How was class?” Beth asked when she couldn’t handle their cuteness anymore. “Learned lots of new dances?”
“Mostly old ones, Bethie,” Dad remarked, not letting go of Mom. “I think I’ve got two left feet, but your Mom doesn’t care.”
“I do care,” Mom said as she lifted her head away from his shoulder. “We get to switch partners a bunch so my feet don’t hurt all night.” She giggled. “I feel sorry for the lady instructor. You should have seen her avoiding his feet.” She hopped up and down from foot to foot as a demonstration, never releasing Dad from her grasp..
He leaned away from Mom and grinned. “I don’t think I learned much today. How could I with all the hopping?”
“You two are too adorable.” This was how Beth preferred to remember her parents as a unit when she thought of them from time to time. “I think I’m going to lose my dinner.”
Sam and Beth would tease Mom and Dad for hours about their newfound agreeableness after the divorce scare. Separately one on one and together. It was hard to know whether they would be together or not in the long run, but either way, it was nice to make fun of their parents who were no longer squabbling over trivial things. Beth no longer had to worry about either of them leaving.
“Is that the ham?” Beth pointed to the paper bags on the floor near Mom and Dad’s feet. “Should we put that in the fridge?”
“We’ll make it tonight,” He nodded. “We could make it tomorrow, but we have to pick Sam up before we head to Aunty’s and we’ve got some errands to run.” At Beth’s confused expression, he clarified, “His car broke down yesterday.”
Sam’s truck had a long history of problems, but it was still a cheap and easy to fix standard model. Sam had bought it when he was fresh out of high school and ready for his first round of college, although he didn’t know it at the time. Originally, a dark brown, it had over time turned to a rusty brown color. Beth’s memories of riding in the car were frightening at best, and driving it had not been any better.
“His truck still works?”
“And on that note, I’m going to bed,” Mom pulled away from Dad’s embrace.
[2012.11.14][622][21182]
The clunking of the garage door opening signalled the return of her parents. It was wonderful to be so accustomed by the noises of the street she had grown up on that she could pick out that sound. The dorm hall she lived in in comparison to other dorms was fairly quaint, but near enough to the quad and the big lecture halls that most of the time there was a constant low roar of human conversation in her ears, even in her room at night.
Beth stretched out on the bed, wriggling her arms and toes, attempting to get her blood flowing again. Cooking with her Mom and Dad could easily turn into a contact sport, depending on Mom’s mood. Mom was fairly protective of the kitchen, and the various utensils and items related to kitchen use. On the other hand, Dad found Mom’s protectiveness to be a source of endless joy.
She headed towards the rustling of paper bags and on into the kitchen area. Dad’s jacket was thrown carelessly onto a dining room chair. Next to the refrigerator, stood her parents, holding each other as if they were slow dancing. What they lacked for in talent, they made up for in clinging. Beth took a second to smile at the two of them: they had an easy playfulness about them as they held each other.
“How was class?” Beth asked when she couldn’t handle their cuteness anymore. “Learned lots of new dances?”
“Mostly old ones, Bethie,” Dad remarked, not letting go of Mom. “I think I’ve got two left feet, but your Mom doesn’t care.”
“I do care,” Mom said as she lifted her head away from his shoulder. “We get to switch partners a bunch so my feet don’t hurt all night.” She giggled. “I feel sorry for the lady instructor. You should have seen her avoiding his feet.” She hopped up and down from foot to foot as a demonstration, never releasing Dad from her grasp..
He leaned away from Mom and grinned. “I don’t think I learned much today. How could I with all the hopping?”
“You two are too adorable.” This was how Beth preferred to remember her parents as a unit when she thought of them from time to time. “I think I’m going to lose my dinner.”
Sam and Beth would tease Mom and Dad for hours about their newfound agreeableness after the divorce scare. Separately one on one and together. It was hard to know whether they would be together or not in the long run, but either way, it was nice to make fun of their parents who were no longer squabbling over trivial things. Beth no longer had to worry about either of them leaving.
“Is that the ham?” Beth pointed to the paper bags on the floor near Mom and Dad’s feet. “Should we put that in the fridge?”
“We’ll make it tonight,” He nodded. “We could make it tomorrow, but we have to pick Sam up before we head to Aunty’s and we’ve got some errands to run.” At Beth’s confused expression, he clarified, “His car broke down yesterday.”
Sam’s truck had a long history of problems, but it was still a cheap and easy to fix standard model. Sam had bought it when he was fresh out of high school and ready for his first round of college, although he didn’t know it at the time. Originally, a dark brown, it had over time turned to a rusty brown color. Beth’s memories of riding in the car were frightening at best, and driving it had not been any better.
“His truck still works?”
“And on that note, I’m going to bed,” Mom pulled away from Dad’s embrace.