My son ran, hugging the cello. It is almost bigger than he is.
He was too far for the driver to see. The school bus pulled away.
He went pale and had the saddest look on his face when he saw me. We bought milk together with coins last night. He knew we don’t have enough cash for a taxi.
He was in distress.
“Come on, I will drive you.” I patted on his shoulder. His eyes lit up.
“But mama, I have to get there by 7:45.”
“You will, just don’t rush me, you know I am afraid of driving here. And getting there safely is more important than getting there on time, right? Let’s go.”
“Ok,” a soft voice with worry.
The lanes are not as narrow as I imagined. But the other cars were too close to me than I’d prefer. Luckily, there were more Lexus, Mercedes, and BMWs; I’m OK to be scratched, I thought to myself. People don’t need trouble on their way to work, and I can spend hours with the traffic cops, I talked to myself.
“Thank you, Mama, thank you.” Kids are remarkably smart. They feel sorry for scared parents.
“You know mama will do anything for you, right? This is not too bad.”
“Yup, Mama, you are the greatest mom,” He was such a great cheer leader, “Just be careful.”
I gave the buses the way. I’ve learned this though my month-long observation and driving in my mind. I let the taxis go. People said, you don’t mess up with taxis. I made the left turn like a cab driver in NYC, the row of motorcyclists slowed down to let me pass.
Let the record show I drove for the first time today.
( Pssst, don’t tell that my leg shook so hard that I had to put the gear on N to rest it at a red light. Yes, it is a thrilling feeling to be back alive.)