A Normal Day In the Life: Episode 5

(If you missed the first 4 episodes, you’ll have to scroll down.)
“I am not getting my coat!” Grandpa Hank said in response to my directive. Then he gave me ‘the look’. I knew that the jig was up. It was Hank’s serious, no-nonsense look. He wasn’t going to let me do anything. I tried the stare down. Didn’t work.
“We’ve got the kids, Josie! We can’t just take off,” he said. “What are you thinking? What were you thinking? Where did you get that money? What were you going to do with it? Oh, good Lord, help us! That guy just stole our savings, didn’t he?” Hank’s normally calm voice got louder, more anxious, and then more demanding with each question. He looked from me to the grandkids, who had stopped what they were doing and were now sitting like little statues listening as their grandparents lost it. I looked out the open door. We could easily see the now departing pickup truck.
“Can you see the license number?” I asked thinking that was really the only reasonable thing I could say to Hank.
“NO! I cannot see that plate. I don’t carry binoculars with me, Josie!” Hank was good at sarcasm.
“I think we’d better do something quick. I have an idea,” I said trying to redirect Hank’s next comments.
Hank stared at me for a mega-second and raised an eyebrow. “You have an idea? I think you have a ton of explaining to do, Grandma!”
“’Splaining. ‘Splaining,” mimicked little three-year-old Jake. Caylen, our five-year-old-going on twelve, precocious granddaughter decided at that moment that it was probably a good time to jump up and free Oscar and Mel from the den.
Seeing the direction this was going, I handed the baby to Hank, grabbed my jacket from the coat rack, and did a quick run for the open door. I managed to slip out, and yank the door shut just before wiener-dog Oscar’s short, little brown legs skittered onto the entry rug behind me.
The sounds of the excited yapping of both dogs, and the boisterous shouts from Hank and the kids followed me out the door as I raced for our car. I pulled my coat around me, and dug in my jacket pocket. Yes! My car keys were in my pocket.
I was good to go! So to speak. I just didn’t know where I was going, yet.
I knew the direction the truck had gone. I was determined to catch up with that Packer Backer Thief. Grandma Josie was not going to be deterred. I set a grim, determined look on my old face. The thief would soon learn what it was like to deal with Grandma Josie.
The engine came to life with a bit of a struggle. It had been parked outside overnight, and didn’t like the cold temperatures. As soon as I got it started, I hit the gas, and the rear end of our little Ford Escape fishtailed spraying slushy snow behind me. This car wasn’t a racer, but the street was clear, and I sped on for several blocks checking each side street for that pick up truck. I’d been so consumed with catching up to the truck and retrieving my money that I really hadn’t given much thought to what I would do if and when I caught the culprit.
It was about a half mile down the road that I heard the siren and saw the flashing lights in my rear view mirror. I kept going, hoping that the cop had maybe been called out for another emergency and would turn off.
But of course, it didn’t happen like that. By the time I admitted to myself that the police were after me, I knew the jig was up and pulled over. I’d lost the thief. I was probably going to get a ticket, too. It just wasn’t fair. I wondered if I cried I might be able persuade the fellow to give me a break. I began working on pulling up a few tears. That was my thought process, until I saw the officer who was now walking up to my driver’s side window. It was our son! Now, I really was in trouble! I slowly lowered the window.
He stood there for a long moment not saying a word. Finally, he spoke very slowly like I was hard of hearing or language deficient or something.
“Mom. What are you doing?”Gail
©gailleecowdin 2020

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