The Text Message

Here we are, the two of us, in Fort McMurray and finding the time we actually have for connection is minimal. My husband is working seven days per week approximately 10 hours per day, so we are valuing the few extra hours we have found ourselves with on this Sunday afternoon. Then it comes

The text message reads, “So my car breaks aren’t working and I’m sticking Montana”

That’s it. That’s the message I receive from my daughter, Princess, as we are enjoying refreshments and watching the final few holes of the PGA tournament.

Now I think, is there something wrong with her brakes? Is there something broken on her car? Is she forgoing her road trip to Montana? Is she in Montana? Of course, I am now unable to concentrate on the PGA or enjoy my white wine and garlic-stuffed olives thinking that Princess is in distress. I immediately fire a text message back to her.

“Sticking Montana?” (I truly want to know what this means), followed by, “Where are you?” Receiving no response to either, I am left to wonder if the purpose to her text message was only to ruin my evening.

I wait a while longer for a response then I make, what I am sure will be, the very expensive cell-phone to cell-phone long distance call to, I believe, the U.S.

I learn that she is in Browning, Montana, looking for a mechanic before the phone gets handed over to her much calmer boyfriend who assures me that someone will check the car brakes, they will be fixed and the two of them, with the car and the dog, will make it home by Thursday as planned.

My husband assures me that I have nothing to worry about. She has a roof over head, food and, if she’s lucky, a cold beer to enjoy on our deck at Duck Lake. “She is creating her own adventures,” he says.

Sunday night was a sleepless one. I lay awake considering the eleven-hour drive from Fort McMurray to Duck Lake, Montana – the rescue mission.

Monday, I try not to worry. I have received no further text messages.

Tuesday, I get the call. Princess is home safe and sound. The car is in for repair in Calgary. She got it handled with two days to spare.

….and “Sticking Montana?” Just a typo – “Stuck in Montana!”  All is good again.

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