The air is dense with a mixture of magnolias, gardenias, and cloying Southern green. “Stop, Drop, and Roll won’t work in Hell” a sign reads from a church yard in Mt. Holly, NC. Only three cars pass me on my morning jog.
Order is present. The cars follow the heavy monotonous traffic with rhythmic precision. The distances between places are vast, longer than I remember. I am late, but for a change the doctor is on time. When I am driving in the minivan tank, the heat permeates and I roll down the only working window all the way. A few minutes later, stopped at an intersection, I notice how I didn’t pause to worry about my exposed handbag on the front seat. The jeep convertible next to me is stamped “Sahara”. I observe the driver on her phone, wondering if she has a clue. I drive carefully, unable to unlock the fear that I could be stopped in a road block and the troubles my expired license might initiate. But then I remember to relax. I am here, of all places. Continue reading “Worlds Apart”