New home for a new child
Purpose driven: driving with a purpose. I know that it’s bad form to explain something by saying the same thing. Too late; I’ve done it, or we’ve done it, and we’re home again. All in the same day, as my uncle would say.
We needed to go to the city, to see one of its newest residents. A real, with all the fingers and toes and animated stretching motions infant. Family. And so, with supper out of the way, we harnessed the dog and set on down the highway. Bare, with no blowing snow. Excellent conditions for a Sunday drive into the setting sun.
My instructions were clear. When we arrived at the new building (how fitting, for a new baby), we were to buzz ourselves in with the secret code. Follow the signs to the elevator (now that’s moving up in the world, around here) and go to the top. Then, wander right along the corridor until we found a door with a number (the only door, as it happened; this place is shiny new).
A lovely home for a new child, even if he or she doesn’t realize the significance, or the potential. What I would have given, to live in a home with winding corridors and an elevator, at any age! We visited, and promised to visit again, and then we left for the return leg. I did mention we were full of purpose. A quick stop for milk, where the clerk offered to double bag, in case someone should attack me for my Purity (Dairy) products, on sale: $7 for two 2-litre jugs.
The trip home was anticlimatic.
