Won’t You Come 2 Our Party?
Sleeping. A minute or two at a time. Mark. This guy hit somebody. Awake. Coat on. Front door out. A silver hatchback is parked blocking our driveway. Drivers Door opens. A man with dark hair gets out. Italian maybe. Takes three steps. Sees me. And at once without any acknowledgement beyond eyes meeting he is back in the car. And it’s all you can do to stare at the rectangle of pressed aluminum. It’s white characters on green. 638 UAR 638 UAR. And then his car is gone again but not before you glimpse the passenger side front quarter panel. What’s left of it. Man he did a real smack. And then Still in Costco house shoes You listen to the scrape of his tires drive away and walk the outer line of the front fence along the line of cars parked in front of your house and up the front door of your rather dory sort of spry 84 year old neighbor. As you reach her front door You see it is open and only the glass screen door is shut. Think about rapping but reach for the doorbell instead. And there she is. Hi you say. A guy hit one of your cars out front. Four cars parked out front. two silver two reddish. Well come in she says. You apologize for the house shoes. A dad don’t. As you step inside you realize how close to Christmas it really is. Her entire house. Silver & red. Four women Sitting around The dining room table. Someone’s car has been Hit 84 says. The murmurs at the table soon turn into realizations. And questions. Which car? I don’t know. He left. I just came here straightaway with the license plate. You realize you’ve been saying it aloud this whole time. 638 UAR. And now you and 5 bible studiers walk back outside. It’s the first car. A white silver one. Joy for not much damage but Enough to pray over.