Going Down the Wrong Road
“Make a left instead of a right,’ I said in the
dawn’s early light to my chagrin, because
left was wrong and right was right.
“The moon’s up above, so it must be ahead,”
I said, “I’ve got a feeling in my gut making me
wonder and wanting to see what the map says.”
Sure enough the map lied and said, Beaver Creek
was straight ahead, but, “Wrong way, wrong way,”
like magic the voice on the cell phone said to the
driver who looked at me with burning eyes..
“There ain’t nothing shaking because of forsaking
a right turn for a left. If we hadn’t made a mistake
the beautiful carved rocks we’re looking at may as
well be stored in a box.”
That made it all right, and she didn’t want to fight, I
thought, until she put the gas pedal to the floor in a hurry
to get to the shore. I cried in shame for calling her by the
wrong name and for taking her so far out of the way.