“Are you excited? I can’t wait to see it!” grandma piped up from the back as I turned left out of the parking lot.
“Yeah.” I nodded, “I’ve never been to this art festival before, but I reckon it’ll be great!”
“I don’t know if you looked at the website very much, but I spent a good hour last night perusing it… there are over 250 juried artists to see at the festival. Isn’t that something?” grandma asked with a smile.
“I intentionally decided not to look at the website…” I trailed off as I focused on merging onto I-25 amid a lot of traffic, “I wanted the art to be a surprise.”
“That makes sense!” grandma smiled, “I won’t spoil it for ya then.”
“You did a good job getting on the highway, by the way.” my grandpa commented, “You are getting more comfortable behind the wheel, aren’t ya?”
“Yup.” I nodded, keeping a close eye on the BMW that was needlessly tailgating me in the center-right lane.
I was so focused on driving that I didn’t pay an ounce of attention to my grandparents as they talked to each other. I watched for my exit like a hawk while speeding drivers aggressively passed me from all sides. But, as soon as I got off I-25 and waited for traffic to pass before I turned right onto University Boulevard, I felt my shoulders relax and my attention returning to my grandparents.
“You see that police station right there?” my grandpa asked as he pointed to a building to my left.
“Uh huh,” I nodded without taking my eyes off the road.
“One night about- oh, forty-somethin’ years ago, a random lady got into my car at a stoplight and asked me to take her home. I asked her where home was and she gave me an address. Wanting to be kind, I drove her to that address as she passed out across my backseat. When I got to the house, I shook her awake and told her she was home. She looked around and mumbled, ‘This ain’t my house…’, so I drove her to that police station right there and helped the cop carry her into the station. When she realized that she was being taken to the drunk tank, she turned around and shouted, ‘You little pothead!’ at me. The cop and I just burst out laughing!”
“Uh huh…” I nodded again as the stoplight turned green.
“Another time, at the church just down this road, I helped build a bench for the bus stop. It’s not there anymore, but I had a lot of fun utilizing my construction skills to build that bench.”
“Uh huh…” I nodded one more time as I came to a stop at yet another stoplight. As focused as I was on driving, I still enjoyed listening to my grandpa relay his stories to me.
“I’ve so many fond memories from this city, Maya,” my grandpa continued, “I’m happy that you’re getting out-and-about more and taking the initiative to make memories of your own down here.”
“I still prefer the country life, though…” I sighed as I drove past historic homes shaded by century-old maple trees that looked just like the ones on the farm in Minnesota.
“Well, the country life is certainly peaceful,” my grandpa began, “But, as you know, it isn’t perfect. The weather is brutal and the work is constant, hard, and dangerous. The danger aspect of farming was part of what motivated me to go to college and move west. Plus, there was just so much more opportunity here in Denver than there was back home… If you play your cards right, you can live in the best of both worlds.”
“How so?” I asked as I noticed the Cherry Creek Whole Foods on the horizon and to my right.
“Well…” my grandpa cleared his throat, “You can have a house in town and a place to retreat to, kind of like what my buddy Eddy’s got. He lives in the suburbs but can go to his cabin whenever he wants. That- at least in my eyes- is ideal, would you agree?”
“Sure.” I shrugged as I prepared to turn right onto Clayton street, “I’ve gotta focus a bit here. Looks like I’m gonna have to flip a u-ie at the next stoplight to get to that parking lot.”
“Yup!” my grandma chimed in, “That’s exactly what you do next.”
Amazingly, I got a green arrow almost as soon as I stopped at the light, allowing me to turn around without worrying about traffic. Then, I turned into the Whole Foods parking lot, when my grandpa said, “I bet if you bought a drink from here, you could justify taking a parking space towards the back.”
“You think?” I wondered just as I noticed a sign that read, “NO EVENT PARKING.”
“Oh yeah,” my grandpa nodded.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I shook my head as I noticed two cops parked at the edge of the Whole Foods lot next to a tow truck. One of the cops gave me a disapproving look as I circled past them, “I’m just gonna go to the parking garage.”
“Good idea!” my grandma agreed.
“Better safe than sorry, I guess…” my grandpa chuckled.
I could feel my heart begin to race again as I approached the entrance to the parking garage. I cringed a bit as I drove under the clearance bar, half-expecting to hit it with my Xterra’s rooftop storage compartment, and stopped behind the Tesla ahead of me to switch out my sunglasses for my regular glasses so I could see where I was going. Finally, as I approached the kiosk to pay for parking, I reached for my wallet but my grandpa stopped me.
“Here, let me pay for it.” he said as he handed me his credit card.
“You sure?” I asked as I pulled up as close to the kiosk as I could.
“Of course!”
“Ok. Cool.”
I slid my grandpa’s credit card into the kiosk, then drove ahead when the gate lifted open for us. Surprisingly, not a lot of parking spaces were taken over (yet), so I found a perfect spot on the second floor, just steps away from the stairwell.
