We took her car on the way back. Neither of us said anything the whole drive, although she hummed a funky diddle that brought a smile on my sorrowful face. There were times when I tapped on the window to her beat, and it felt like we were making a song.
For a few seconds, I had the feeling of nostalgia, when us three were riding in her former wagon car, and we'd be merry. So much so, the police pulled us over several thinking we were on something. Well, mom more than us two.
Life was easier back then. Or it seemed. Being a child is nicer.