Are you okay? You rushed out of the store with such a worried, angry look on your face, jumped in your car, and drove away.
Why are you always such in a hurry when you park in 'our' spot? Baby, it's the government and do-gooder citizens who are after you - not me. Leave it to them to keep us apart with their silly colored spaces. I stare at you longingly from my van, but it's not out of hatred. My heart belongs to anyone who ignores all the rules and parks there, even if it's 'just for a sec'.
Do you love me at all? Or is there someone else? Is it the guy who parks in 'the blue zone', runs in to grab a few six packs, and screeches off in a fit? Is he the father of the four screaming children that you always seem to have with you?
Hon, you keep parking there. Fight for it. God knows the disease that's eating away at my nerve endings is nothing compared to the hurry you feel when you need some PediaLite and a pack of smokes. How else are you going to send the message that emergency tampon/condom/milk parking is needed immediately? Handicapped parking is always available anyway! Besides, the batteries in this scooter last for TWENTY MINUTES. Beat that, Range Rover!
The other day you looked so annoyed at life. I'm guessing it was your turn for snack day at work. That morning it took my parents 40 minutes to get me in and out of the shower and dress me, and then load me and the 600 pound scooter into the van, and drive over to the store. But being late for snack day? Damn! Baby, why don't you do one better and park right in front of the store, maybe even in front of the cut-out in the sidewalk? We can kill two birds with one stone: you'll get in and out in record time, and I'll teach Medicare to pay for a scooter that can jump curbs. (Or one that can read minds, since I am losing muscle control in my hands. Hee-hee!) But I'm NOT losing my love for you. Never. (BTW, if we do finally hook up, don't worry about my parents - they are deep sleepers, and we'll have the back bedroom they remodeled for me all to ourselves!)
So until you stop averting your eyes, I'll park further away, watch your beautiful legs work, and remember the former meaning of the sweet word 'hurry'. Instead of wishing for the ability to walk again, I'll wish that you make that meeting in time. And hope with all hope that a delivery van doesn't run you over, crushing your spine. In the meantime, please please please leave a shopping cart in the space as a sign that you know I'm there.