My sister and I were sitting in the back seat of a car which my mother was driving over a hill between Portsmouth
and Rosemount, the small community north of Portsmouth. I was a bit concerned about my mother's driving: she had recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Her doctor had given her permission to continue driving around the Portsmouth neighborhood; but I was still worried.On my ring finger I was wearing a diamond ring which I had recently bought for
Carolina. I had been wearing the ring for several days now, and I liked the feel of it. It was large and brilliantly colorful, even though I had only bought it at a department store and had paid less that one thousand dollars for it. I hoped the mounting was strong and would hold the diamond. I wasn't quite certain whether Carolina and I were already married and I had finally bought her the ring, or whether we were still planning to be married. I would also have to buy her a golden wedding band.My reverie was broken when my mother pulled the car to a stop to pick up two hitchhikers. I was shocked she would stop for strangers; but then I realized my sister knew both the bearded men (probably in their late 20s). One climbed into the front seat and one piled into the back seat with my sister and me. They seemed friendly and my apprehension quickly abated.
My mother continued driving. She was beginning to have some trouble maneuvering the car; the weather was turning nasty (a slight drizzle) and cars were crowding all around us. Our lane seemed to become more and more narrow, with cars on both sides of us. My mother seemed to be losing control, uncertain what to do; instead of stopping for a car which was pulling into her lane, she kept going and lightly bashed into the side of the car. The damage appeared to be slight, and the other car didn't even stop; but this little accident was enough for me. I sarcastically commented that she (my mother) was doing a wonderful job. When she paid no attention to me, I demanded that she stop the car and let me out. I had reached my limit.
She stopped the car and I climbed out. Once I was standing out of the car, I realized I wasn't certain where I was. No other cars were to be seen. The rocky road was on the side of hill; I was uncertain whether to head up or down. As I contemplated, my mother climbed out of the driver's seat, and one of the hitchhikers climbed in behind the steering wheel. Obviously my mother had finally relented and was going to let someone else drive. As the car started to pull out, I hollered out to stop; if my mother wasn't driving, there was no reason why I should not get back into the car. The car stopped and I climbed back in.
The hitchhiker began driving. I could immediately tell that he knew what he was doing. He turned the car around and began heading back up the hill in the direction from which we had come. Only now did I realize just how terrible the road was; it was filled with huge rocks, barely passable. No wonder my mother had had such difficulty.
Three or four books were sitting on the side of the road. One book was a hardback accounting book. My sister said she had put the books out there. I wasn't exactly sure when she had done so – when we had picked up the hitchhikers or when we had changed drivers? My sister said the accounting book was particularly good, but she didn't want to stop and pick it up; she was simply going to leave it there. We drove past the books, slowly maneuvering through the brown boulders.
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