Excerpt: Cataloguing life experience

The rain pelted the roof and windshield and the wipers cleared the glass in a slow rhythm that was very relaxing. I wondered where my mom could be. She was taking a long time. I was worried. How long will I be alone here in the car? And yet, it was comfortable. There was a smell of car leather stewing in the humid air, and the blower was keeping the car warm. The sound of the wipers was steady and it was the closest thing to a human presence. Maybe because it was the loudest? Or because it was an off and on sound, like words coming out of a person’s mouth?