WHEN THE STEM CLEARS UP
I step out of the shower, the fan above me whirs loudlyc..youfd think I was in a helicopter for all the noise it makesc.. The mirror above the towel rack is all fogged up, but I donft wipe the steam awayc.I wait for it to clear up on its own, patiently towelling myself off, wrapping my robe around me. I walk out, towel-turban head, and make coffee. I return to the helicopter launching padc..can I shut that fan off now? Is the steam all gone? The steam hasnft evaporated yetc.. I look at the mirror, and see something appear, a secret message in a childlike scriptcc.
I brought my car in yesterday before heading off for work, for its regular three-month checkup thingie. I love my Hyundai dealership, the people that work there are fabulous. So Ifm waiting, reading the newspaper, and Kevin the service manager calls me to the counter. Roger the mechanic is with him. Inside Ifm going gUh-oh, this isnft good if both the manager AND the mechanic need to talk to mec.h So they go on to explain the work that needs to be done (front brakes are toast, back brakes need lube or whatever it is they need, an oil change needs to be done, parts & labour) along with the cost. Roger is there holding my front brake pads for me to see how worn they are (like I would know the difference between a healthy brake pad and a sick onecbut still, very considerate of him). And he has that sad puppy dog look in his eyes as Kevin the service manager explains the cost (which includes taxes). Steam fogging up the mirrorcc
Roger looks at me, sort of bracing himself as Kevin tells me the grand total, taxes included. Ifm doing my best to take it all in stride, as if Ifm used to paying this kind of money all the time, just like that. I AM an independent woman, after all, earning my own money, paying my own bills, providing for me & my children. I smile at Roger the mechanic and Kevin the service manager, and say something breezy & nonchalant, like gItfs gotta be donec.h,and shrug my shoulders while I say it. Meanwhile Ifm thinking gHOLY GEEZ!!!!!! Thatfs half my rent!h Steamy, foggy bathroom alertc.canft seec..resist the urge to wipe the mirrorc.
As the Hyundai shuttle driver brings me to work, Ifm still in a state of shock at the amount Ifll have to pay for the car. There goes Christmas spent somewhere warm. There go the kidsf mattress foundations I was going to shop for this week.
Darren the driver is one funny guy. Good thing, because I need all the comic relief I can get right now as I contemplate some kind of criminal activity to rob Peter to pay Paul. Darren is 26, stands about 5Πin his workboots, as round as he is tall, and reminds me of a scrappy, scruffy little teddy bear. And he has the best stories ever (he should be on George Strombolopolousf The Hour). I laugh all the way to work as he recounts his hilarious days of losing his keys, finding his own wallet that he didnft know he had lost, his dreams of going back to school to get a better paying job, his worries about being hugely indebted with student loans after said job is obtained. But hefs an optimist, Darren is, and he always brings a little bit of sunshine to your day. And I take a little bit of that sunshine back to work with me as I come up with a workable solution to pay for the carfs repairs.
Steam clearing a littlecc
As Ifm calculating what I owe for the next 2 weeks, I check the calendar, then check it again: YESSSSS!!!!! October sees me getting THREE cheques, rather than the usual two. Hello Christmas holiday, hello mattresses!
Steam dissipating til itfs nearly all gonec.
Night falls, and the voice you long to hear is there, close and reassuring, asking about your day, making you laugh three seconds after you say hello, wondering what youfre reading, telling you that youfre amazing, that voice that wants to know all about you and how youfre doing. You canft see that voice yet, (are voices seeable?) but you know itfs there, you can hear itccif youfre patient, it will come. Donft wipe the mirror, be patient, it will all become clear.
Coffee cup in hand, I read the message my daughter has left for me, written on the mirror in her curly script: I love you.
I donft wipe the mirror, I donft clean itcI want to see that message again & again, each day. Even when the steam clears, I know the message that my daughter wrote is still there. Even when my children are not with me, they are. Even when Ifm faced with the unexpected, I know the answer is somewhere for me to discover. Even if I cannot see the gentle, true voice that Ifve been hearing lately, I know hefs in my heart.
Resist the urge to wipe down steamy mirrors, be patient and watch what manifests itself when the mist clearsc..
Love,
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