Mom's Taxi

My fingers were drumming on the steering wheel while my left foot was jiggling double time.  “Come on, come on, COME ON!” I said to the red light as if my dance of impatience accompanied with a strong vocal back up would compel the light to change to green.  I was in a hurry to get my errands done.  The left turn arrow came on and a flash of yellow accompanied by a burst of air went by me on the driver’s side of my car.  It was a bright yellow kind of SUV kind of truck-like thing with black checkerboard patterned racing stripes from bumper to bumper.  Stenciled on the door and on the tailgate were the words, “Mom’s Taxi.”  A well coiffed young woman with designer sunglasses, that suited her beautifully, was behind the wheel.  Her manicured hand with acrylic fingernails was holding the newest cell phone contraption to her ear.  I saw the humor in the statement she was making with her uniquely painted vehicle and thought it was funny.  But it was not funny too.  We all lead such busy lives.

The light turned green and it was my turn to go.  The cars leapt forward like race horses from the gate.  Soon I was up to speed and my steel buggy was being pulled along like metal to an invisible magnet.  I felt myself slipping into that zone of semi-awareness that comes from traveling the same route day after day.  As always, I began mentally assessing my “to do” list, trying to retrieve from the deeper recesses of my mind, anything I possibly could have neglected to add to my list.  Satisfied that all was there I began to organize my itinerary of stops in order to make the most efficient use of my time.  My car, on auto-pilot, came to a stop at another red light and I realized that I had traveled at least five miles without remembering the trip at all.  It was if I was a “Time Traveler”, slipping through invisible portals, to land in another world and losing a block of time into the void.  As the light turned green and I maneuvered the car through the double left turn that would put me on Highway 50 and the ten mile stretch to the new Wal-Mart, the image of “Mom’s Taxi” with its unexpected message to me began to speak.

“You are always so busy, doing and doing, going and going.  And at the end of the day you don’t email your friends because you have nothing to say.  You can’t write the stories you dearly would love to write because the images of your day have been lost in a blur of time.  While you are on auto pilot, traveling place to place, your soul runs on empty.  She has a thirst that needs to be satisfied.  She needs to drink in the beauty of the world you live in.  You have plenty of time.”

“Got it.” I replied and let my eyes become the lenses of the inner camera of my being, taking pictures and storing images to up load at a later time.  I vowed that from now on I would note at least three things I saw as I travel place to place.

The wind was blowing from the south.  I could tell by the bend of the delicate, golden brown prairie grasses.  The US flag over Sweeney’s Feed Mill was flapping and snapping wildly.  Red Bud and Globe Willow trees were lavender and lime green, their edges softened and blended into the landscape.  I could see what inspired Monet.  The front range of the Rocky Mountains was navy blue with the patches of snow that still remained in between the trees looking like white freckles.  Pike’s Peak towered above it all, its slopes pink and grey.  The glacier on it that never melts was wrapped like a stylish scarf around its giant neck, as if it was an impetuous last minute addition to its attire.  I pulled into Wal-Mart and clicked the "save" button on my imaginary camera.

I see “Mom’s Taxi” quite often while I am out and about.  I smile and want to wink.  I don’t need to take a picture of the image that is permanently engraved upon my heart so I can remember the lesson I learned that day.  Angels, as messengers, can come in any form.  And multi-tasking, for me, isn’t about making time; it is about claiming time in my very busy day.