Miles. Keys. Bad combination.
With loads of help from my aunts and from my parents, we had the U-Haul unloaded and ready to be returned before 10 this morning. Mom and I chattered about something inconsequential as Dad hiked up the hill to where we detached the trailer yesterday. Miles made to move the truck accordingly. "Hmmm," Mom and I heard moments later. This is Miles' favorite word, expression, and response. It unnerves me. It has no defined emotion attached...though, today, I had a pretty good idea what was coming. "Hon, do you have the keys?"
"Nope."
"Hmmm..."
So, we called Debbie and Brenda, Mom's sisters. "Do you have the keys?" We had, minutes earlier, sent them along with the contents of the cab. They were not answering their phone. Miles marched up and down the driveway, "hmm"-ing perplexedly all the way. Mom tried Debbie and Brenda again. She left another message. Miles "hmm"-ed some more.
Finally, we decided to just drive to my aunts' home. They did not have the keys. Miles "hmmm"-ed. We journeyed back to the farm.
As my childhood home came into focus, we noticed something peculiar. The truck was sitting at the top of the driveway, not the bottom where it was when we left. We all found this very impressive for a vehicle without keys...very impressive indeed. Miles "hmm"-ed.
We jumped from the car and asked Dad, clearly the only witness, how this had come to pass. He grinned and laughed, "The keys were in the truck." Miles "hmm"-ed.