
The driveway is not the place for quiet reflection.
It’s the hub of arrivals and departures, the place where you are always hunting for the house key or the car key, busting for the toilet, tucking sweatshirts under your chin, drink bottles under your arm, grabbing shopping bags or school bags or day bags, yelling at kids to help, kicking doors open, kicking doors closed, putting everything down to hunt for keys, running back for sunglasses, putting on sunblock, finding hats, reaching for the map, plugging in the phone, fiddling with the air-conditioning, checking your reflection for toothpaste on your chin…
Then one day you glimpse a painting reflected in the wing mirror.
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