I’m pulling out of grandma’s driveway in her blue Buick Regal. She lost her license and can no longer drive herself. She’s been alone in that big house since grandpa died. She is watching me leave in her car, the one her husband bought, her last form of physical freedom. She was crying and waving at me like she always did. But this time it’s harder because now she is stuck at home. She can’t get in the car and drive anymore. She’s stranded at home with just herself and her thoughts. I drove the car back home because it was now mine. I was out of college and needed to get a new car. But the drive home is a hard one due to the finality of the scene. I felt bad on the way home. I can still see her waving and crying in the rearview mirror. But she is smiling too. Almost like a sad understanding. She was smart and knew it was the right decision. I didn’t even paid for it. The tearful ride home is the price, I guess.

(this short story was written as part of a '4 Minute' exercise from Lynda Barry)