speechless

she sat, turned facing me in her car seat. one leg neatly tucked under the other. staring. watching me. quietly.

the sun was warm and bright as it washed over my jeans and tempered the wind that howled outside the car windows, trying to make its way inside.

i was thankful for the sunglasses i wore - to protect my eyes from the sun and her watchful eyes. my eyes, hidden behind the dark glasses, stay focused on the road and on the cars ahead of me.

an uncomfortable silence took hold and no amount of radio static could block out the noise of the howling winds adding to our unease. i don't believe we had been alone like that in years. most likely, for good reason. we don't argue. we don't fight. we just don't see eye to eye.

in the car, she tried to look into my eyes. i was thankful for the dark glasses i wore, keeping my soul safe from her. there is no mistaking that we are different people, i am just not yet ready to see how we are similar.

"you've must've had a hard life", she finally says to break the silence. how do you respond to question that is at both true and false without screaming. my life is no harder than others yet also uniquely complicated enough to warrant such a response. i want more information on why she would utter a statement i can't respond to. i need to know why before i can see her point or reason for it before i instinctively curl back my lips to snarl.

"i mean, you just always know what to do", she followed up with. i was thankful for the dark glasses i wore. she was trying to thank me for doing what comes natural to me, taking charge of the situation and juggling the details and persons involved.

for planning her husband's funeral. for helping her.

i tried to answer her. i mumbled something about having to work hard to get where i am today. how would she begin to understand a glass ceiling when she has never had to work and never looks up? she has lived her life under the protection of others -- going from her father's house to her husband's without stepping out into a doorway of her own. like a baby, dependent on them to feed her making her new independence at his death a rude and frightening awakening as to how sheltered her life has been. i think i rambled on about how either you find your inner strength or your inner strength finds you.

"i just wanted to thank you, is all. for everything you've done for me."

what i wanted to stay -- shaking her in both hands as i did -- you have two choices you can lie there and die along side him or you can choose life. you can choose to stand on your own two feet. discover how strong you really are and take control of your life, your destiny. determine who you are, not within the confines of someone else's idea, but of your own free will. educate yourself on things you don't know. ask questions. don't except just what others are willing to give you but demand what you are worth. just once, know the joy of being free to go, to be, to provide for your own needs. how sweet the fruit of one's labor truly is!

i am glad i wore dark glasses that day. my hands stayed firmly planted on the steering wheel, eyes forward watching this new destiny roll out before us as i sat speechless.