Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifteen
3 a.m.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman at the gas station trying to wave me down. It takes me a moment to realize what I’ve just seen, but it’s too late now. I’m gone, and I have to get to where I’m going.
The whole exit row to myself.
From up here, the fog looks like little lakes sitting between the hilltops. We really do live in a beautiful place.
In the twelve-minute Uber ride, I learn that the nails on her pinky toes are black from wearing too-small shoes for too long; her sister has five kids, and she has six, but her sister has two that have already been to juvie and she doesn’t really want them hanging around; she was handcuffed at the border te last time she crossed over with her sister and she told her sister never again — “I’m not a criminal” — she will walk, but she will never drive again; the morning before was a good morning for her and so she split her tips between her two oldest kids; tomorrow she is going to the beach, but I gather that it’s not for something joyous — someone has died and this is more of a memorial, not a party. I tip her to keep my 5-star rating, but also because I chose to have only women drivers and, if I can, I will put as much money in a woman’s hand as possible.
These facilities are sick.
It just so happens she is also from Northern California, in a town not too far away, so, after the clinic, we eat lunch together outside of the dining hall. She is where I was just a few short years ago — no numbers, limited talent, a young team fighting through a challenging, loss-heavy season. I tell her it will come because she cares, and they just need someone who can be consistent.
6-20. 4-21. 11-13. 18-7 + playoffs. Next year….
I find a quieter spot on the beach. Billie Eilish in one ear. I thought I would read, but all I do is stare out at the ocean and watch the rhythm of the waves. Gratitude for the beauty. Gratitude for being allowed the space away to do this. Remembering how much I need moments of solitude and how few of them I have these days.
The aching rush of feeling every emotion all at once.
I hope she turns on the air conditioning in the car. It’s a 24-minute ride back to the airport.
You win by being yourself.
