The Run-Away

Tears falling from my eyes, I loosen my grip from the steering wheel to clear my vision. My world is falling apart. Like a puzzle pushed from a table, the pieces of my life are left tossed about. I try to turn on the radio for some musical consolation, but some bubblegum pop fails to comfort me. I forcefully twist the knob to “off,” and reinforce my previous decision. This is it, I’m running away. Half an hour’s drive to the interstate, and then another four hours until Jupiter. Being a teenager, I’ve used more than my allowance of fits, meltdowns, and crack-ups. This is different. I am not running away so much as I am running back; running back to the place I love, the place I feel accepted, the place I call home. The place my mother stole me away from. As I approach the on ramp of 1-95 South, I second-guess myself. I pull into the nearest gas station to make up my mind. While sitting in my car, having an argument with myself, a van pulls into the spot next to me. A woman, late thirties, dressed nicely with a business suit, but with the worn out smile of stay at home mom, emerges from the driver’s side. The van door slides open to reveal, not one child, but three, each dressed in various sports uniforms or tutus for dance class. She unbuckles the youngest, who is crying hysterically, from her car seat and places her gently on her hip. The older two children file out, arguing and pushing each other. The woman, her children, and now an added cell phone conversation, are now inside the store. After making her purchase, one child weighing on her hip, two tugging at her pant leg, and attempting to do business on her phone, she can hardly balance everything enough to open the door. I leap from my car to hold the door. With the most grateful smile, she thanked me. Looking into her eyes, I could tell she was tired. Working a full time and being a full time mother of three is not easy. I could also see her genuine love and concern for her children. Willing to do anything for her kids, she would work all day, come home to care for the children and then work all night. In her eyes, I saw my own mother; who gave me life, who worked two jobs so my brother and I would never have to do without, who attended every recital and concert. My mother didn’t move me away from Jupiter to punish me, but because it was the best choice for us. I am ever-thankful for all the sacrifices she has made to give me a better life, and I hope someday to be as great a mother to my children as she is to me. All this I learned from watching a family at a gas station. I believe we can learn from everyday strangers.