I had come home from college for a day to visit my psychiatrist. When it was time to return to school, I put my backpack and duffel bag in the trunk of my car. Then, my roommate Margaret's car pulled up, and I got in.
"I hope we make it back to Athens on time to get to our classes," she said. Apparently, it was morning. We were driving through residential streets I had never seen before, but that could have been almost anywhere in the United States: little brick ranch houses were hidden by tall oak trees. Everything looked comforting and pretty. I was enjoying the ride. There were leaves on the trees; it looked like early spring in Georgia.
Suddenly, I realized that if Margaret drove me back to college, I wouldn't have my own car there. And without my own car, I wouldn't be able to get to classes very well.
"Marg," I said, "I forgot my car. Can we turn around?"
Margaret sighed but turned around in someone's driveway and headed back to my house. She said to me, "I'll wait for you so you can follow me back to Athens," as though I didn't already know the way.
