Parking Space

Thwack thwack.
Thwack thwack.
It was snowing— hard. Peter didn’t mind the snow; in fact Peter usually thought it was peaceful—just not today.
Thwack thwack.
Thwack thwack.
The windshield wipers kept a steady rhythm; blithely ignorant of the trails of ice they were leaving blocking Peter’s view. All Peter wanted was a parking space, well, and to pee, but Peter would gladly forfeit any right to urinate for a parking space—he had been circling the parking lot for more than an hour now. The frozen trails on the window had cost Peter two spots already, one to a herd of mothers in a minivan, and the other to a blue-haired troop of seniors in a towncar.
Thwack thwack.
Peter had no idea why he was even out today of all days, Black Friday. Okay, yes he did. After four years he had finally gone with Kristen to her family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Peter hated crowds. Kristen’s family of nine brothers and sisters was terrifying. Peter broke Granmama’s gravy boat before dinner even started…an “heirloom gravy boat”—who ever heard of such a thing? As reparation he offered to drive Kristen and her three sisters to Target’s spectacular sale.
So here he was, endlessly circling the strip mall parking lot, lost in another crowd in a snowstorm in a car with bad windshield wipers and no heat. Well, yes, there was heat, but there was some type of problem with the fan that sounded like a tornado swirling through a herd of cattle. It’s not that the car was old, it was new enough, but Peter didn’t have much interest in his car. He preferred the bus…or his bike…or better yet just being home in his partially restored cottage.
Thwack thwack.
Thwack thwack.
A parking space! Peter stomped on the gas, the tires spun futilely in the slush. “Come on! GO!” he shouted. The tires grabbed and Peter “wooted” in excitement. His breath was coming quickly now—he was nearly there.
Fifteen yards.
Thwack thwack.
Ten yards—tires spinning a bit, but the car was still moving.
Thwack thwack.
“VICTORY!” Peter yelled as his breath gathered on the windshield, “Victory is mi—!” A horn blasted as an SUV muscled its way into the spot. Peter hit the brakes and slide to a slushy stop. He sat and watched through the misty windshield as three people emerged from the vehicle, high-fived one another and, laughing, hurried toward the store. Peter boiled for a moment and then mashed his hand at the dash fumbling for the defrost controls. As the tornado of sound whirled to life Peter blurted a prayer, “God? This is Peter. If you’re listening I could really use a parking space.”
Thwack thwack.
“Yes Peter, I’m listening.”
Thwack thwack.
Thwack thwack.
Peter turned off the defroster. “What?”
“I said I was listening, Peter. You’re looking for a parking space. Sounds like you’ve got a loose fan blade in your defroster as well. 2001 Subaru’s are known for that.”
Thwack thwack.
Thwack thwack.
“You know what kind of car I’m driving?” Peter asked as his foot wandered absentmindedly to the gas.
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t be much help if I didn’t have that type of information, would I?”
Dazed, Peter resumed his circling of the parking lot, no longer interested in finding a parking space. “Can you see me?”
“Well, see isn’t exactly the way I would describe it, but I know where you are and that you’re looking for a parking space—try by the Pottery Barn, it’s West of where you are now.”
Peter turned down the aisle and headed toward the Pottery Barn. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Absolutely Peter, I can stay with you until you find a parking space. What’s on your mind?”
“What’s it like where you are?” Peter asked as a bevy of woman carting their wares passed in front of him.
“Oh, it’s a little slice of heaven; not like where you are at the moment. By the way, the temperature is going to drop even more and you’ll have continued snow showers as the day goes on—is that all you want to know?”
Thwack thwack.
Thwack thwack.
Peter thought for a moment. A rush of thoughts and then, “What should I do about Kristen—I mean, it has been four years, you’d think we’d be married by now, but I’m just…well, I’m…I’m just Peter.”
“Ah marriage. Look Peter, it’s Winter. It’s a difficult time to be thinking about these types of things. The days are shorter and short days and afternoons spent pottering around in a dark house with the windows painted shut isn’t good for anyone. As wonderful a time of year this is there are too many emotions that can be falsely heightened by all of the extraneous activity. You were obviously frustrated when you contacted me—it’s just a parking space, don’t sweat it. Finding a parking space becomes a big deal when it really shouldn’t. Enjoy the season for being what it is. Ignore the things that ultimately don’t matter. As far as Kristen is concerned—enjoy the holidays with her. Get the fan fixed in your car and don’t worry about marriage, it’ll happen when it is supposed to.”
Thwack thwack.
Thwack thwack.
Peter thought about it, and it made sense. He smiled and almost missed the fact that there was a parking space opening up to his right—and right in front of the Pottery Barn. “A parking space! HA HA! How can I ever thank you?”
“No thanks necessary Peter, just think about what I said and enjoy your holidays. This is Todd, thank you for calling OnStar.”