“This is bad traffic," said my mother-in-law, Mary. "But, I don't mind sitting. I like watching things."
"Watching?" I asked.
"Yep, like old men used to do in Brewton, they'd sit down on benches by the department store and just people-watch, tell jokes, and cuss.”
What I would've given to be people-watching. Instead, Mary and I sat in stand-still-traffic. Car bumpers touching, exhaust vapors potent enough to make you see pink elephants.
The Land Rover behind me wouldn't quit riding my tail. If he crept any closer, he would've been in my lap.
Mary went on,
“Back then, all the farmers would do their shopping on Saturdays. Daddy kept the store open late. The country ladies would drop by, bringing jams, vegetables, berries. Mama called them Daddy's lady-friends.”
“Sometimes, we'd spend whole evenings just eating one bowl of ice cream until it turned to soup.”
Mister Land Rover laid on his horn. He was trying to get around me. I don't know where he was going, but if he didn't get there fast,…