Other Mysteries

77% Weekly Newsletter

Other Mysteries

 

As I approach our parked 2010 blue Subaru Forester, I hand the remote and key from my left hand to my right.
 

Hardly thinking or noticing my actions, I insert the metal key into the door lock and twist. I feel the mechanism turn. I pull out the key, open the door, get in, sit down, insert the same key into the ignition, twist, and start the engine.
 

As my right arm returns toward my body, my foot on the brake, the engine running, about the shift from park, I realize something surprising.
 

I unlocked the door with the key!
 

I usually (always, except for this incident) unlock the car with the remote, not the key. 
 

Why?
 

Why did I do it differently?
 

WHY DID I DO THAT?!
I don’t know.
I’m trying to be okay with that.
And, other mysteries.
 

 

Refractory Anxiety

I am supposed to arrive at the wedding rehearsal at 4 p.m. I planned on arriving 15–20 minutes early. Because I don’t like being late. However, I took a wrong turn. At the intersection of the I-5 South and the I-405 South, I went the wrong way. Now, I’ll have to turn around in a mile and a half and

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No words. No words.

To offset our discomfort about our upcoming visit to the Terezín (in German: Theresienstadt) concentration camp/ghetto, Emmett and I fall into making dark jokes. Gallows humor. “Do you think they still give free tattoos upon arrival?” “Want to wear matching pajamas for our tour?” Dark, ugly jokes.  Because reality is just too overwhelming. The feelings are too overwhelming. So we

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Has anyone seen my keys?!

Jane and the kids misplace keys. Not me. I don’t. I always return my key to the keyrack. That’s where they go. When the key isn’t on the hook, which happens from time to time, I find it on some surface in the house. Usually, the kitchen table. Then, without fanfare, I pick it up, hang it up, and restrain

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77% Weekly Newsletter
77% Weekly Newsletter