September 5th, 2018
Jaroldeen Edwards
It was a bleak, rainy day, and I had no desire to drive up the winding mountain road to my daughter Carolyn’s house. But she had insisted that I come see something at the top of the mountain.
So here I was, reluctantly making the two-hour journey through fog that hung like veils. By the time I saw how thick it was near the summit, I’d gone too far to turn back.
Nothing could be worth this, I thought as I inched along the perilous highway.
“I’ll stay for lunch, but I’m heading back down as soon as the fog lifts,” I announced when I arrived.
“But I need you to drive me to the garage to pick up my car,” Carolyn said. “Could we at least do that?”
“How far is it?” I asked.
“About three minutes,” she said. “I’ll drive—I’m used to it.”
After ten minutes on the mountain road, I looked at her anxiously. “I thought you said three minutes.”
She grinned. “This is a detour.”
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