parking garage

For several years my mother and I had season tickets to the symphony. It was a chance to dress up nice and rub shoulders with the rich and famous, so to speak. A good friend played viola in the symphony and it was fun to learn about the inside workings of the symphony as well. She taught my little brother and sisters on their strings.

Symphony concerts were about once a month and I always drove us downtown to the fancy hall where they were held and we always parked in the parking garage under the concert hall. After one concert we couldn’t find our car in the garage. It became a little embarrassing as others found their cars and headed out. Some couples chuckled and whispered to each other, “They can’t find their car.” The garage was nearly empty and we were still wandering, hunting for Flossy. We had been involved in a lively conversation when we arrived and neither of us had paid much attention to the details of where we’d parked. We tried to remember, “I think we pulled over to the right” “It seems that we were by the wall,” Remember, we had to walk quite a ways to get to the elevator.” “Do you suppose it was stolen?” Finally I said, “This doesn’t even look like the same parking garage.” It was then that mother realized we were parked on a different level. All those years we had happened to enter the garage through the lane that went to the upper level, but this time, during our visiting, we hadn’t noticed that we had been in a different lane, the lane that goes to a lower level. Boy did we feel relieved to finally figure that out; relieved and very silly.

But even silly mistakes can teach us valuable lessons; I haven’t lost my car since. I learned to always pay attention and make a mental note of where I am. Mother ties a ribbon to her car’s antennae.