“…and an oink oink here, and an oink oink there! Here an oink! There an oink…” I looked into the rearview back at my smiling two year old attempting to keep him entertained on the drive home when my husband suddenly changed lanes and took at u turn at the median, catching us by surprise.
“What is going on?” I asked as he took the first right into a neighborhood that wasn’t ours and pulled over to the side of the road.
“This doesn’t look good.” He pointed at a pick up truck pulled over on the opposite side of the road.
A man stood in the road yelling into the drivers window, arms raised, fingers pointing into the window. He leaned in yelling, face in a grimace hads holding on to the windsheild.
“What is happening?”
“I don’t know,” my husband said, distracted and unclicking his seat belt.
“You are not going out there.”
“She needs help.”
“You don’t know what she needs. You’re just going to leave us here in the car?”
“This doesn’t look right.”
“I know! That’s what I’m saying. What about our kid? You can’t bring him into a dangerous situation.”
“This is not safe. We don’t know whats going on.”
“I’m going to find out.”
And he left.
And I was pissed. I’d like to say I wasn’t. I’d like to say that I wanted to help too, but all I could think about was if my son was safe, if my husband was safe, if I was safe.
I watched from my car as my husband approached the strangers, arms wide – slowly, calmly with that intrinsic energy he has that somehow magically calms everyone around him.
Everyone but me.