MyThreeDaughters

It’s about 45 miles from here to Williamsburg, where we headed last Sunday to dump…to avail one set of the grandparents of the opportunity to spend the afternoon with their lovely and pleasant granddaughters.
It usually takes us about an hour to make that trip.
But this time, it took us: One Thousand And Eleven.
I know this, because shortly after we hit the interstate, Fontaine began counting.
One…two…three…four…five…
Elizabeth sat next to her and sucked her thumb.
Four hundred and fifty eight…Four hundred and fifty nine…Four hundred and sixty.
We did the five hundreds.
We did the six hundreds.
We played music, we talked, we looked at stuff, and all through it came the constant, dedicated drone of time marching on. Slowly.
Very slowly.
We did the seven hundreds, and at seven hundred and ninety nine, we forgot where we were.
So we did the six hundreds again, and the seven hundreds again.
Rain pounded the windshield.
Numbers pounded our brains.
I looked in the rear-view at Elizabeth, sucking her thumb.
At that moment, I kind of wished Fontaine still sucked hers.