Parking Lot

 

Scott and I were preparing to embark on our first river trip together (yes, the same trip where he wanted to see if I could successfully poop in a bucket).  There were fourteen of us going on the trip.  Scott and I lived closest to town and had the most room to maneuver trucks and trailers, so the group decided to meet at our house the morning of departure.  

We had planned to pack all the gear onto Scott's big flatbed trailer and his work truck.  There was one other truck going, also pulling a trailer, and one passenger van for the people.  In ones and twos, vehicles began arriving and disgorging their contents.  Before long, our front yard looked like the world's biggest piñata had just vomited its brightly colored contents of boats and gear all over the lawn.  Stuff was everywhere.  Boats, kayaks, spray skirts, coolers and dry boxes, personal bags, oars, and life jackets lay in haphazard piles on every available inch of grass.  

Boats got loaded on the trailers, gear got stuffed into every nook and cranny in both truck beds, and after a few hours of Jenga-like packing, we were ready.  Scott, our old dog Maddie, and I hopped in our truck.  The other group members loaded into the other two vehicles, and we were off.  I was beyond excited!  My first river trip!  I couldn't wait to get to the river, see the sights, camp under the stars on sandy beaches, and be in the wilderness for a full week.  

"Hey, Scott!" yelled the trip leader from the passenger van.  "Hey, we need to make a quick stop at the grocery store on the way through town."

"Okay," Scott replied.  "See you there."

With that, our small caravan pulled onto the highway and headed north.  We reached the store, turned into the parking lot, and parked.  I watched as everybody in the van got out and headed into the store.  The few people in the other truck did the same.  Scott and I had already done our shopping for the trip, so we didn't need to go in.  I glanced at the clock on the dashboard.  11:00 am.

"Do you want to go in?" I asked Scott.

He shrugged.  "I don't need to."

I nodded, rolled down my window, and settled back in my seat.  This won't take long.  I bet they are just grabbing a few last-minute things.

Fifteen minutes went by, then twenty.  Finally, I saw two group members rolling out a grocery cart loaded with food.  They dug out one of the coolers and dry boxes from the other truck and started putting away their purchases.

"Did they not do their shopping before the trip?" I asked Scott.

Once again, he shrugged.  "Guess not."

"Why not?" I demanded.  "We did.  They couldn't do their shopping before today?"

Scott shrugged again, watching them pack their food into a cooler.

Another twenty minutes went by before I saw two more group members emerge from the store.  They too had a cart full of groceries, which they loaded into dry boxes and coolers.  

I was getting irritated.  These people were wasting my time.  We could be on our way to the river by now.  To the river!  Instead, we were sitting in a hot parking lot for nearly an hour, waiting for them to do their shopping.  Why couldn't they have done it sooner, like we did?  I started to fidget.  Scott could feel my annoyance.  

He pointed to a few of the group members who were also waiting.  They had formed a small circle and were playing hacky sack near the cart return.  "Want to go play?"

"No," I said as I crossed my arms.  My mood was dropping faster than a river in August.

I watched the minutes tick by.  Soon it was 11:50, then 11:55, then noon.  I became more annoyed with every passing second.  More group members trickled out of the store, all with full carts, all needing to load their items in the coolers and dry boxes.  

Scott knew I was mad, and tried to engage me in various conversations to pull me out of my funk, but it was not working.  I despise wasting time.  Inefficiency is an affront to my personal well-being.  When someone else wastes my time, I find it INFURIATING.  In my mind, sitting in the parking lot of the grocery store, my time was being fully and willfully wasted.

"I'm super annoyed with this.  We could be halfway to the river already!" I fumed to Scott.  

Scott took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then looked me in the eye.  "Are you gonna be like this the whole trip?"

I stared back at him, saw the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips, and I started to laugh.  His one sentence told me everything.  The irritation melted away as I fully grasped his remark.  We were already on the trip.  This was part of it.  Sure, we weren't on the river, but we were on vacation.  We were here, together, in a hot parking lot, on our way to the wilderness.  Let's enjoy every moment of it.  

Scott always knew exactly what to say to me, and when, to derail the negative thought train that raced around in my head.  That day in the parking lot was the first time I would experience his Zen comments, and over our nineteen years together, it would happen time and again.

In that moment, in the parking lot, on the way to our first river trip together, I smiled at him, grateful for our souls knowing each other so completely.

He smiled back.  "Let's go play some hacky sack."