Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - At the Drive-in

Episode Date: June 6, 2022

Our story tonight is called At the Drive-In and it’s a story about a chance meeting on a summer evening. It’s also about bubbles and whirligigs, stretching out on a blanket as the screen flickers to life and the fun that can come when you stop overthinking and just say yes. So get cozy and ready to sleep. Order the book now! Get our ad-free and bonus episodes.Purchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Grownups, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nicolai. I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens, with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. I love to tuck you in at night, but I'm also here for you during the day. My 10-minute meditation podcast, First This, is a simple guided practice to help you feel centered and clear-headed. Find it anywhere you listen to podcasts. You can also get your very own

With Audio Engineering by Bob Wittersheim hoodie and other cozy merch, subscribe to our ad-free and bonus episodes, and listen to some special extras at nothingmuchappens.com. Just like your body needs a bed to rest in, your mind needs a quiet nest to settle into so that it doesn't wander around keeping you up at night. And that's what this story provides. It's a simple, sweet place to rest your thoughts.

Now, I'll tell our story twice, and I'll go a bit slower the second time through. If you find yourself still awake at the end of the first or second telling, don't worry. Take your mind back to the beginning of the story and walk yourself back through whatever you can remember, especially any bit that felt cozy or enjoyable. This is a kind of training for your brain. You're training it to focus and rest. And the more often you do it, the faster you will fall asleep. So have a bit of patience at the beginning. Now, turn off your light. Put away your devices. And get as comfortable as you can. Scan slowly from your temples down to your toes

and let your muscles ungrip, soften, and relax. I'll be watching over, guarding this space while you sleep. So you can let the walls down. Now, let's take a deep breath in through the nose. And out through the mouth. Do that one more time. Breathe in. Let it all out. Good.

Our story tonight is called At the Drive-In, and it's a story about a chance meeting on a summer evening. It's also about bubbles and whirly gigs, stretching out on a blanket as the screen flickers to life, and the fun that can come when you stop overthinking

and just say yes. At the Drive-in. Here is a thing I love. Spontaneity. Just saying on any old Thursday afternoon. What if we went to the movies? Or turning down a dirt road outside of town when you don't know where it will lead. Or sending flowers just because someone popped into your head and you wanted them to feel special and loved.

Often a kind impulse or an instinct for adventure gets squashed by overthinking. So anytime I bump into a spark of uninhibited high spirits well, I walk into it with my arms open wide I'd been in the park in downtown in the early evening strolling on the trails behind the pond, when I spotted a friend of mine sprawled out on a giant picnic blanket with her kids. She was blowing bubbles,

and they were chasing them, giggling and trying to catch them between their little hands. When they saw me, they shouted and ran to me with happy, excited eyes, which might be one of the loveliest feelings in the world. To be greeted with pure joy. I don't have any children of my own, but I love getting to step in as an auntie. To twirl them around in my arms and play and listen. I'd had other plans.

I'd been on my way back to my car to head home. But suddenly, all of that fell away. How could my plans be anything like as important as blowing bubbles? So I plopped down on the blanket beside my friend, who handed me the plastic container and slightly sticky wand. I hadn't blown bubbles in decades, shame on me, but they looked exactly the same as they had when I was a kid. A red plastic jar, a label with smiling faces and super-duper bubbles written on it, and the yellow wand with its ridged loop and slightly too small handle. I dipped it into the soapy mix and lifted it to my lips

and blew gently till a stream of bubbles stretched out and broke away into the air. I'd forgotten how they caught the light, each one like a prism reflecting a rainbow of colors before bursting. The kids chased them and watched the few that escaped their hands float up into the tree branches above us. I hopped up and dunked the wand again, and holding it out at arm's length,

spun in a circle, leaving a trail of bubbles in the air. The kids wanted to try that for themselves, and we handed over the containers and wands, and they turned in circles until they fell on the grass, dizzy and laughing. While they played, my friend and I settled back onto the blanket and chatted and caught up. The day had been warm, but here in the grass, as the sun went down, it was cool.

And I flipped onto my back to watch the leaves shifting in the dim light overhead. The first evening stars coming out. Eventually, the kids wore themselves out and flopped down beside us. I liked the way their young brains worked, jumping from one thought to another with excitement, telling me about day camp, where they were learning to swim and play tennis, and what the last day of school had been like, and their friend who had just gotten a scooter. And they take turns riding it, but it would be

really great if they all had scooters. The little girl reached into her pocket to show a stone she'd found. And along with it came a dozen seed helicopters. We tossed them into the air and let them fall down around us. And I showed them how they could peel the papery skin away to reveal the red maple seed beneath it. I told them they were safe to eat, but tastiest in the spring, so maybe next spring we could We could meet up to gather a bagful and roast them up at my place.

They looked skeptical, but said, okay. We started to pack up our play space, shaking the whirligigs off the blanket and screwing the tops back onto the bubbles. What now? the kids asked as we strolled back along the path toward the cars. They weren't ready to give up on playing, on doing something fun. It was nearly dusk, but the summer days are meant to be enjoyed from early until late. So we racked our brains as we walked, looking at the light purple sky around us, I suddenly

had an idea for how to end this lovely evening. I leaned in close to my friend, to whisper in her ear in case she might need to veto my plan. What about going to the drive-in, I asked. She beamed at me and nodded. It won't be too late for them, I said. What about day camp? Tomorrow is Saturday, she said with a smile. We'll all sleep in. I turned to the kids and announced,

I've got it. Let's go see a movie at the drive-in. They lost their minds appropriately, and I got to feel like Santa Claus for a few minutes. We decided to pile into my car, as it had a hatchback, where we could wrap up in the blanket to watch the movie. The drive-in was a little outside of town, and since the movie started not at a particular time, but just when it got dark enough to see.

We jumped into the car and headed out. On the way there, I thought of the times I'd been to the drive-in as a kid. Summer nights just like this one, vowing to stay awake for the double feature, but most likely falling asleep before the first show was done. wanting and sometimes being allowed to sit up on top of the car roof and watching the fireflies blink in the surrounding fields. Candy and popcorn and my parents tuning in the movie station on the car radio. When we got there, we found a line of cars turning in ahead of us. We weren't the only ones struck by a good idea tonight.

They had two screens, and we picked the line for the more kid-friendly movie on offer. We paid for our tickets while telling the kids about how people used to sneak their friends in, hidden in the trunk, to avoid paying for them. Not that we had done that, certainly not, wouldn't be right, but just that we'd heard. It had been known to happen. I pulled the car around so that the rear bumper faced the screen. And as the kids went to the concession stand, we opened the hatch and spread out the blanket.

The night air smelled fresh and cool, and the screen began to flicker with coming attractions. What fun to be spontaneous, to ride an impulse and just enjoy now for now. At the drive-in. Here's a thing I love. Spontaneity. Just saying on any old Thursday afternoon,

what if we went to the movies? Or turning down a dirt road outside of town when you don't know where it will lead. Or sending flowers just because someone popped into your head and you wanted them to feel special and loved. Often, a kind impulse or an instinct for adventure gets quashed by overthinking. So anytime I bump into a spark of uninhibited high spirits, well, I walk into it with my arms open wide. I'd been in the park and downtown in the early evening, strolling on the trails behind the pond, when I spotted a friend of mine sprawled out on a giant picnic blanket with her kids. She was blowing bubbles,

and they were chasing them, giggling and trying to catch them between their little hands. When they saw me, they shouted and ran to me with happy, excited eyes, which might be one of the loveliest feelings in the world. To be greeted with pure joy. I don't have any children of my own, but I love getting to step in as an auntie to twirl them around in my arms and play and listen I'd had other plans.

I'd been on my way back to my car to head home. But suddenly, all of that fell away. How could my plans be anything like as important as blowing bubbles? So I plopped down on the blanket beside my friend, who handed me the plastic container and slightly sticky wand. I hadn't blown bubbles in decades. Shame on me. But they looked exactly the same as they had when I was a kid. A red plastic jar. A label with smiling faces and super-duper bubbles written on it. And the yellow wand with its ridged loop and slightly too small handle.

I dipped it into the soapy mix and lifted it to my lips and blew gently till a stream of bubbles stretched out and broke away into the air. I'd forgotten how they caught the light, each one like a prism reflecting a rainbow of colors before bursting. The kids chased them and watched the few that escaped their hands float up into the tree branches above us. I hopped up and dumped the wand again. And holding it out at arm's length, spun in a circle, leaving a trail of bubbles in the air.

The kids wanted to try that for themselves, and we handed over the containers and wands, and they turned in circles until they fell on the grass, dizzy and laughing. While they played, my friend and I settled back onto the blanket and chatted and caught up. The day had been warm, but here in the grass, as the sun went down, it was cool. And I flipped onto my back to watch the leaves shifting in the dim light overhead. The first evening stars coming out. Eventually, the kids wore themselves out and flopped down beside us. I liked the way their young brains worked, jumping from one thought to another with excitement, telling me about day camp, where they were learning to swim and play tennis, and what the last day of school had been like, and their friend who had just gotten a scooter.

And they took turns riding it, but it would be really great if they all had scooters. The little girl reached into her pocket to show me a stone she'd found, and along with it came a dozen seed helicopters. We tossed them up into the air and let them fall down around us. And I showed them how they could peel the papery skin away to reveal the red maple seed beneath it. I told them they were safe to eat, but tastiest in the spring. So maybe next spring, we could meet up,

gather a bagful, and roast them up at my place? They looked skeptical, but said, okay. We started to pack up our play space, shaking the whirly gigs off the blanket and screwing the tops back onto the bubbles. What now? the kids asked as we strolled back along the path toward our cars. They weren't ready to give up on playing, on doing something fun. It was nearly dusk, but the summer days are meant to be enjoyed from early until late.

So we racked our brains as we walked. Looking at the light purple sky around me, I suddenly had an idea for how to end this lovely evening. I leaned in close to my friend to whisper in her ear in case she might need to veto my plan. What about going to the drive-in? I asked. She beamed at me and nodded. It won't be too late for them?

I asked. What about day camp? Tomorrow is Saturday, she said with a smile. We'll all sleep in. I turned to the kids and announced, I've got it. Let's go see a movie at the drive-in. They lost their minds appropriately,

and I got to feel like Santa Claus for a few minutes. We decided to pile into my car as it had a hatchback where we could wrap up in the blanket to watch the movie. The drive-in was a little outside of town. And since the movie started not at a particular time, but just when it got dark enough to see, we jumped into the car and headed out. On the way there, I thought of the times I'd been to the drive-in as a kid. Summer nights exactly like this one.

Vowing to stay awake for the double feature, but most likely falling asleep before the first show was done. Wanting and sometimes being allowed to sit up on top of the car roof and watching the fireflies blink in the surrounding fields, candy and popcorn, and my parents tuning in the movie station on the car radio. When we got there, we found a line of cars turning in ahead of us. We weren't the only ones struck by a good idea tonight.

They had two screens, and we picked the line for the more kid-friendly movie on offer. We paid for our tickets while telling the kids about how people used to sneak their friends in, hidden in the trunk, to avoid paying for them. Not that we had done that, certainly not, wouldn't be right, but just that we'd heard it had been known to happen. I pulled the car around so the rear bumper faced the screen, and as the kids went to the concession stand,

we opened the hatch and spread out the blanket. The night air smelled fresh and cool, and the screen began to flicker with coming attractions. to be spontaneous, to ride an impulse and just enjoy now for now. Sweet dreams.