December 10
Miami, FL
I saw you tonight clutching the wheel tightly, driving an old blue battered minivan. An ordinary-looking woman in her 50s not unlike many we pass unthinkingly on the street. Your chin barely reached over the top of the wheel, and you leaned forward intently, eyes darting, mouth agape, concentrating only on inching the vehicle past us. I wondered – what is your story, Miss? That “I love soccer” sticker on the rear window would suggest a Spanish-speaking matron in Miami-Dade County. Or, maybe you don’t care about soccer at all. Perhaps you bought that pre-owned car dirt-cheap, with the sticker, from Little Havana. You need it to shuttle from one day-job to another. There is nothing special about how your greasy hair is pulled away from your face in a tight ponytail that bares the veins at your temples. Nothing remarkable about the pink face scrubbed clean hurriedly before the next errand of the day. What’s special is the grit that shines through that ordinary face. The grit that makes you invincible in daily life. The patience the family banks on when all hell breaks loose. The cool practicality that soothes troubled children's minds just as well as the cooing and petting once soothed tired little bodies.
Is that your story, Miss? Here's a fan screaming her lungs out for you - you rule the world.
