Although she was a passenger in a minor accident (thanks to a quick thinking driver), Sarah has demonstrated excellent driving skills. She backs down our steep, narrow driveway to park. She travels Interstates and the twisty, dangerous roads of Knoxville without fear. She doesn’t just drive safely, she likes to drive. She drives siblings to and from schools and activities. She drives herself to friends’ and family members’ homes effortlessly. Sarah takes herself shopping. Sarah thrives as her own person. She transitioned to independence with complete ease. Sarah is no longer the immature, insecure child who needs her mother by her side. Everything was going hunky-dory until one late night during Spring Break when she missed our driveway. Completely missed it.
The wheels getting stuck in the dirt and slipping on long flower petals actually saved the car from dropping off the retaining wall. The mailbox that I would have rejoiced at the opportunity to replace was untouched. It was, by all definitions, a harmless mistake. It should have been over as soon as Dad rescued the car from its’ silly non-parking spot. Instead, it has left a bruise on Sarah’s confidence. She avoids backing down the driveway, even though she is incredibly capable. In my head, I know this was one of life’s easy lessons and she will emerge stronger and more aware. My heart just wants to put a cartoon bandaid on her knee and give it a magic kiss to make everything better.
Poor thing; I let mine drive our minivan around my parents’ senior complex, thinking, perhaps it’s not so bad if she does drive like a grandma, right?
Senior complex driving training seems wise to me.