Left at the side of the road

whizzing down the highway
today in my comfy leather seat,
a mere push of a lever moves
me forward, back, up, down,
tilt back or forward,
ice cold water condensing,
trickling down the side
of my Friday Frappe, one
buck off if it's snowing.
forty eight years ago, I was
one of five small children
summarily deposited on the side
of a divided highway, just like
this one, watching the family
car recede into the distance,
unsure if it was ever coming back.
the elder sister was not
holding a Friday frappe,
licking cold water off the
sides or feeling the memory
of soft leather against her
fingertips, the tails of her clumsily
made pigtails just barely reached her
mouth, where she could suck
on them thoughtfully as we all
gathered around
her like chicks around a
mother hen. He eventually
showed up again from behind us,
having exited somewhere on the
other side of the horizon and
looped back around.We dutifully
loaded back into the car and headed
west once again. He hummed to
the radio,we sank into our
seats, hoping he would forget
we existed. Perhaps
he already had.