Volkswagon Summer Post #8

Kimberly Jensen

The next morning my mom relieved me of babysitting my little brother. She said my dad was in need of my help instead. I was thrilled to be out of the garage and away from the strangers who rummaged through our personal belongings. I pulled my hair up into a pony tail and met my dad at the side of the house. He had his carpenter belt on and near his feet were board, nails, hammers and all sorts of other equipment I didn't know the names of. "Grab that board and hold it up while I hammer this other one in place," my dad said with a determined look on his face. "What are you building?" I asked. "A platform for the van. I'm going to pull out the middle seat and fit this right in there. That way you can lay down and be comfortable all the way to California," he said, as he hammered the first leg into place. "A platform? You mean we can hang out in the back and sleep laying down?" "Yep," he said as he measured the wood for the second leg. I thought the platform was a pretty cool idea. I could sleep the whole way there and possibly avoid any those embarassing songs and games my family insisted on singing. "Hey, is Jessie going?" I asked timidly. "She's trying to get the time off work. I've asked her to try harder." Jessie was my older sister. She had graduated the year before from high school and was hardly ever home. She was working at the local 7-11 and taking a few classes at the community college. I looked up to her, but I don't think she even knew I existed. I think she just saw me as a pesky younger sister who begged her for rides and borrowed her clothes when she wasn't home. Jessie had an eternal tan and wore the coolest jeans and highlighted her hair. Her natural curls bounced on her shoulders and her lips were never without shiny, pink lipgloss. I adored her and wanted to be just like her.