But somehow… we ended up stuck in the mud. I wasn’t really scared, probably because I’ve never been stuck in the mud but Colin said that as soon as our tires went off the pavement, he felt the whole car sink into the red clay.
And it makes sense. Last night, there was a serious rainstorm and it poured down in sheets. The ground was ripe and ready to swallow our little rental car up in one big, dirty gulp.
Or you know, just get us good and stuck.
You see, what had happened was…
Colin had this bright idea — he’s been something of an idea factory lately. Sunday, he suggested the boy child and I swing by on our way home from my niece’s birthday party on Sunday at my sister’s house (2 minutes from his place). We could pop in and the boy could meet his kitty and he and I could squeeze in some valuable minutes together.
It’s so funny how important every little minute matters right now for us… When his mom was doing really bad, I’d shoot across town and we’d get to spend several days in a row together. Obviously, hanging at the hospital is nobody’s idea of a romantic time together, but that’s not why our time together is so great. We just… we just get along really well. And we bring each other peace and strength and happiness. It’s SO corny — I get it. But just BEING able to be close to each other matters a lot. We live nearly 50 miles apart!
So Sunday night, he had this brilliant idea that we’d come over and have a little mini-visit. It was just a really good idea! The kidlet got to meet and play with his cuh-ray-zee cat and he and I got to sit and talk for a brief little while. Then he and the boy played records together, speeding up the rotation so that everything sounded like Alvin and the Chipmunks. Such a good idea!
So, last night, when he asked me if I wanted to meet half-way for breakfast, I was totally on board.
The problem is, half-way between us is, um… in the middle of no where.
Literally. This is the Google Street View of where we met. I mean, now there’s a Chick-fil-A there, but seriously… It’s the country!
And it WAS such a great idea. We picked a little spot to sit together in a corner and we ate our biscuits and were generally adorable and probably nauseating to all of the sweet country people in the restaurant. Sorry, folks! So, we finished eating and had an hour to kill… Tuesdays, I don’t have to be at work until 11 and on this particular Tuesday, he didn’t have to be at work until noon… So, we move from the dining room of Chick-fil-A to his car.
He’s adorable. And we’re making out, but only a tiny bit. He’s giggling, I think because he was embarrassed or shy. I mean, we were in the parking lot. I get it, I suppose. Things like this don’t bother me. I’m either socially evolved or socially retarded, the jury is still out.
So we drive. The area is developing quite a bit and, considering it is an almost exact midpoint between where Colin lives and where I live — two pretty populated areas, it makes sense that it would be an area where some commerce would sprout up. There’s a Target and a McDonald’s and a Home Depot, but mostly, there’s a lot of paved roads leading to cleared fields with tall yellow weeds that would come up to my chin. Eventually, the area will be dense with shopping centers, but for now, they’re sprinkled about between long stretches of roads that don’t have any traffic.
So we pulled over, seems we found a perfect little spot to make out, right? I suggested he pull into the little paved almost-driveway thing that, one day, would be an entrance to a Kohl’s or something but right now, looks like a little paved rectangle jut-out from the road.
He misunderstood me, I suppose and kept going.
Then… we sank. Sank, sank, sank into the red mud. He said, “Oh no. I think we’re stuck,” but his voice was lacking in any real alarming emotion, so I sort of laughed it off, thinking he was teasing me. He does that a lot. I’ll chime in with a gullible, “REALLY?” playing right into his hands. But this time, he wasn’t joking.
He opened his door and instructed me to drive because he was going to have to push the car out of the mud.
It’s BEAUTIFUL outside, right? Blue sky and high 50s and nice and breezy and my man is about to get who-knows-how-deep in the mud! Eep!
But we manage to wiggle out of the mud fairly easily and as I felt the tires grip into the pavement, my entire body shook with laughter. You know, the kind of laughter that really just takes over. You’re bent over, unable to breathe, but trying to sputter out something like, “I’m really sorry to be laughing right now,” even though your face has split nearly in two with a big, toothy mouth gaped open… Laugh…ing.
It really did seem like a good idea at the time. As we drove away (post make-out session), the caked on mud on the tires was spitting off the car like a confetti parade behind us… We must have left a mile-long streak of mud tracks on that little country road…
And the greatest part of this story is that every time I drive to visit him… And every time he comes to visit me… We’re going to remember this.
I love it when things happen like this.
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