Car Tales

The song landed in your head while I braided your hair. You sang a few words and asked me to join you. Our morning was smooth; I timed the hair doing with your breakfast eating perfectly.

We put our shoes on and were on our way.

As soon as you heard the car start, you asked me to play it.

“Mama, I want Opalite!”

As you wish.

I turned it up, and we took turns singing at the top of our lungs. A see-saw of favorite lines, your wonderful pronunciation of an “onyx night,” the clumsy way you say “dancing through the lighting stripes,” and a joint “oh oh oh oh, oh!”

The moment was ours. The joy of the present bursted through my eyes in the shape of subtle raindrops. The emotion of having a song together vibrated in me with each word we sang.

Your emotion looked so genuine on the little monitor. You leaned your head back during the chorus, mouth wide open, lyrics bubbling out of you. Your giggles whenever I tried to reach a high note. Our shared laughter right before the bridge.

My day went by with multiple work tasks shuffling in my head, while also trying to decide when I would pause to write down this car slice.

Time kept moving on, and I began feeling anxious about not having my slice done, but then I’d rehearse it in my mind, placing myself back in that car and chanting that song with you, and I thought to myself, “It’s alright.”

4:30 PM came with the realization that I still had not written my slice, but it was time to pick you up. We got to the school lobby and noticed the inconsistent rain. You asked me if we could go find an umbrella to “walk in the rain.” I responded, “Sure… when we get home. Let’s go!”

By the time we were buckled up and heading home, the rain had stopped. You were already busy with your book, but then, a minute later, the rain returned. I rolled down your window and told you to reach out and touch it.

Your giggles filled the car with a glorious mist. I pulled over, so you could feel the drops in your hand. Fingers spread out, as if you could catch the moment with every inch of your skin. As if reaching for it with all your might. A few seconds worth investing.

Now, as Tim fulfills my “promise” to walk in the rain with an umbrella, I sit here and pour these words out as fast as I can, remembering how fun it’ll be to read them again in a few years.

Oh oh oh oh, oh