30 minutes

it was mother’s day. i was invited to brunch at my mother’s place with my oldest sibling, S.,  visiting from the west coast. i phoned from the highway to tell them that i was running 30 minutes late. it was S. who answered the phone. She said….  oh … well (pause) ok… (sigh). i knew instantly i was in deep deep very big trouble. Sorry, I said.

when i arrived, my mother was frantic. i asked, what’s wrong? is it because S. is angry at me for being a tiny bit late? my mother nodded. S. was so infuriated that she threw a tantrum, stormed out of the house and drove off to an undisclosed location. My mother  said, tersely, you know S. has to leave at 2:30. Which was 3 hours from now. I guess they had planned a very long brunch.

and then i was infuriated and threw a tantrum.  i said to my mother, i cannot believe this. nobody has ever gotten angry at me before.  I said, not one person has ever gotten angry at me for anything, ever, except for S. And then I stormed out of the house, and drove away. drove 8 hours straight,  heading up to the north woods of minnesota. bear country.

as i was unpacking my tent, waves of regret took ahold of me once i realized that i had completely decimated mother’s day 2013. why could i not rise above this sort of thing, S’s tantrum, my echo-y tantrum? did my flight to the woods serve any real purpose other than to destroy pleasant moments in other peoples lives, people who might need those moments the most?

I quickly repacked the tent, sprinted back to the car, and was about to call them to apologize for everything, everything, to assure them, to swear to them that i would be back before dusk, that i would even give my sister a ride to the airport. but i had forgotten that at some point on the drive up north, I had tossed my cellphone out the window, into the Mississippi River. they might never know how sorry i was.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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