It was rushed, it was chaotic, but finally it was done. The kids were in the car, their bags were packed in the trunk, my wheelchair was put away, and we were ready to go. It’s amazing how, with kids, time both slows down and speeds up at exactly the same time. But we were on our way. I had a doctor appointment in the city and the girls were going to see their dad for the weekend. It made sense that they ride down with us.

We dropped them off, said goodbye and headed over to park in the lot of a mall that’s right across the street from the doctor’s office. We were well early so we decided that we’d do some grocery shopping, bring them back to the car, and then head over to see my doctor.

Joe pulled got the chair out and suddenly panicked. The cushion, the really expensive made for me cushion, wasn’t where he expected it to be, where he always puts it. He tears apart the back seat and the trunk but no cushion.  We fold the chair up put it back in and drive up to a level where we got phone reception. We called Mike, did they accidentally take the cushion with them when they grabbed the girl’s stuff? Mike checks, inside and then says he’ll run down to where we parked to see if it’s there. Got a text: Not here.

Next we call Marissa. We’d all gone out for breakfast before heading down, could she check the parking lot. We don’t reach her but break all sorts of etiquette and leave a message. She calls us and tells us she is on her way to see if she can find the seat cushion.

We park and use cloth shopping bags and a towel for a seat cushion, and head into the mall. We get better reception there we wait. And talk. It’s a winter day, a slushy one, if it’s found, what shape will it be in. Joe must have, we figure, left it on the top of the car and, because of the panda and his monium, didn’t do the final step of loading. We wait for the call.

Marissa calls to tell us that the cushion has been found. It wasn’t where we parked and it had been run over once but she thinks it’s still okay. She said she’d drop it off at our place and clean it up a bit. She assures us it’s usable.

We go to the doctor’s office only to discover that we’ve arrived a week early. My appointment was for the following Friday. Great! Suddenly our doctor appears in the waiting room and calls us in saying. ‘One day I’ll get some lunch.’ I felt horribly guilty but then he assured me that it was okay and he was good with seeing us.

Finally we drove home.

We find the cushion, cleaned up and looking no different than the last time we saw it. It’s just fine.

I call Marissa and tell her that she literally saved my ass.

We laugh.

That’s the best way to end a story like this.

Laughing.

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