Practice

We do it the old-fashioned way again: 
pen and paper (not GPS), you looking at 
the map and me writing down the turns 
I should take when I have to drive you

to and from early morning surgery
next week. I recall an evening
over two decades ago when we 
were new in town, leaving the car 

dealership— You drove the rental, 
slowly leading the way so I could follow 
in the just-bought blue compact car, lights 
blinking on in row houses that we passed. 

It wasn't my first time behind the wheel, 
but my first time to drive in this new country 
of four- or more-lane highways and unfamiliar
street signs. My heart did its best to keep 

from pounding or being flustered, to not
be distracted by fast traffic. We pulled into
the lot of our new apartment. I loved how you
smiled, how I was proud to have done well.