Alanis got me all confused on irony. I always get it wrong and look stupid, but I know that a scuba diver drowning in a bathtub is involved.
But oh good grief.
So if you know me, you know that my mom’s job has given me a set of life rules. They include obvious things like never tolerate chiropractors (seriously) and don’t crack your knuckles, as well as slightly more obscure things like Tylenol is for the weak and stretching can cure basically anything.
Rule number one has always been, and will always be: no motorcycles. Turns out that when your job is rehabbing people with spinal cord injury you develop a complete fear that someday someone you love will touch a motorcycle and suddenly be in a wheelchair.
So when my dad came home with a Suzuki…um…power scooter? Sure, let’s go with that…is this irony?
Good grief. It’s orange and it goes 28 miles per hour (and yes, we timed it with a baseball radar gun). It has a basket and it looks like something that a hipster would drive. It also turns out that I love it desperately. What’s more is that my mom has officially decided that 28 is a safe speed and this thing is on its way to street legal (the funny thing is that she might ride it to work and earn the disapproving stares of all the other PTs). But guys…it’s great. This whatever you’d like to call it is just lovely.
I’m thankful for a lot this week. I’m thankful for friends and Austin and Waco and Common Grounds and Derek Webb (seriously just go buy his new CD. derekwebb.com).
But this week, when I wasn’t sure how I’d left things, I came home to a not-a-motorcycle and learning to drive it while we laugh in the driveway, and it seems like we’re going to make it work, me living here.
And I came home to the exact right passage underlined in Narnia and left on my pillow. And I came home to a new volleyball season. So…
Everything will be made new again.