23 June 2014

Clover Learns to Drive

First day of summer, almost 16, my son

and I leave the house at sundown

to practice night-driving.


“Can we take Clover?”

She loves short car rides. “Sure.”


From the backseat, Clover takes her usual spot standing

front paws on the center console

master and commander of this vessel


our lives are in her hands. She barks her approval at my son

adjusting mirrors, moving the seat to fit a human

a full foot taller than the car’s owner. Me.


“Ready, Clover?” he asks, and we’re goin’

to Austin.


Clover navigates the full seventy-

five miles, until we pull into the Westlake Randall’s

at 10:30 p.m. and dock our vessel in a parking space.


She has delivered us safely to our harbor. She retreats

to her cabin (the backseat) while we disembark and buy water.

She does not wake when we set sail for home, does not stir once.


“C’mon, Clover,” he says at midnight as he opens the craft’s door,

gathers his weary co-captain, still dreaming of hill country roads,

waves of asphalt.


  1. This is just perfect. I do love your writing Megan. (Have I said that before? Well, I do!)

  2. Wow. 75 miles each way to practice night driving? At least you had a mighty captain for half the voyage, aye?

  3. 🙂

  4. I love this. Love it. First time you’ve written of your son, I think – and it is truly lovely. Thank you.