 - Last login: 6 days agoJunebugn
- Becca is a 55 year old married woman from Huntsville, Alabama, USA.
- Likes 144 pages, 8 videos, 27 photos • 12 fans • Received 4 reviews
- Member since May 18, 2007
My husband and I drive our own semi all over the country. As such, we are part of one of the largest groups of free-thinkers, individualists, and just down right stubborn people in America. We have two sons, 29 and 20, and a grandson just turned 20 months. I'm writing a preteen novel and a series of poems for my grandson. Parts of these are posted here. I welcome all criticisms!
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Latest installment of Our Lady of the Airbrake:
Chapter Three
"Cissy, check the directions for me again, would you?"
Mom was slowing down in a neighborhood of factories and offices. I grabbed the notebook we write the directions in and said,
"It says turn left onto Beecher Street."
"Beecher, Beecher - there's a Beech, could that be it?"
"Maybe - yes, there it is, Consolidated Industries on the right!" I couldn't help it, I high-fived Mom. It was such a victory to actually get to the place we were to deliver to using the kind of directions we usually got. Written by truck drivers trying to be helpful, they were full of bad spelling and all kinds of errors. Mom said it would improve my deductive reasoning.
"Ahh, look at this, another impossible docking situation!" said Mom. I sighed. Like I could do anything about it. I had to just sit in my seat, not get my arm in the way of the mirror, and be quiet, while Mama maneuvered the monster into position. The trailer had to be perfectly lined up to the dock door or the thing couldn't be unloaded. This one was in a row of other trailers, so that Mom had to line the trailer up just right and turn the back end of it just at the right time so that it would go in the space between trailers. Just try it with your little brother's trucks sometime, you'll see what I mean.
I didn't have a little brother or sister. Like I said, I had an older sister, but she was grown up almost and on her own. We didn't have much in common. Everyone was always telling Mom she was lucky to have a quiet child after the wild one. My sister was kinda the type that took up all the air in the room she was in. Every time there was a major blowup with her, I got to go watch TV while my Mom calmed Britney down. After a while, I noticed the similarity between my family life and the Jerry Springer Show, so I started reading instead.
I love my sister, I really do. But she defines "Drama Queen". She's always getting into stuff she can't get out of without help, and then acting like we have to help her or she'll just die.
I got out to walk the dogs after Mom docked the truck. Walking dogs is such a calming thing to do. You can't get impatient, because you can't hurry the process, as many times as you say, "C'mon, now, go poozers!" So you end up just holding the leashes and staring out at the scenery - and thinking.
I thought about my life. When Grandma got sick, Mom said she had no choice but to pack me up and take me out in the truck. It was summer, just about a month ago, and school was out. Grandma's heart attack was bad, but it came at the right time. She was in the hospital for a while, then we got her settled in at home with a nurse to check on her and Brit promising to help. I didn't understand why I couldn't stay and help, too, but Mom said Grandma needed rest, and if I stayed, she'd be trying to take care of me and work too hard.
I sighed. That was the best thing about living with Grandma - she did everything for me. I was the baby granddaughter, and I just about could do anything I wanted. I admit I sat around a lot while Grandma cooked and cleaned - who was I to deprive her of taking care of me? I hoped she'd get better soon - I missed her cookies.
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