you ever felt stuck right at the moment when all you wanna do is run?

i remember one cold, rainy night when i was kid, my mother and i sat in the car in our winter coats and hats, coming from/going to i cannot remember where. and i could read the frustration on her face, but i struggled to not ask what was wrong. i mean, i knew what was wrong... the car wouldn't start. but, i didn't know what was wrong. i watched in pained silence as my mother tried over and over to start the car, hearing the teasing vru-vru-vru-vru, i dare not ask any questions. i watched as she took the keys out, blew on them, pumped the gas pedal, then tried to start the car again. Vru-vru-vru-vru-vru! Dammit! this was much more than wondering if there was enough gas or maybe calling a mechanic, because if that were an option, it would have been done. my mind flashed to the candles that lit the house, the hot bath water heated by the gas stove, and the free meals we had gotten from the church and i just knew. i sat staring straight ahead as my mother placed her head on the steering wheel, praying and cursing the check engine light gods. i made sure to sit extra still and extra tall... maybe my good posture will make the car start. and fix the house lights. my mother pulled the keys out of the car and slumped back in her seat, unclicked her seat belt. then... she looked at me and smiled, her moist eyes sparkling. i smiled back at her, happy for no damn reason other than the break in mood. Okay Sabas (that's me). One more try.

that night plays so clearly in my head these days. i remember the happiness i felt when the car finally turned over. it seemed miraculous and i smiled the entire way back to our dark, cold but cozy house. right when i could see my mother toying with the notion of giving up, one quick little prayer, one small reminder that everything is much bigger than that moment, everything sort of came together. right when it just had to. those moments are provocative. waiting for things to just come together. hoping that things come together. i call them last-minute miracles. i'd go on to experience more in my young life... money for the school trip coming in at the last minute right when i was about to accept i'd miss all the fun, the perfect apartment appearing on the market two weeks before the lease is up... even though these might not seem like miracles in the traditional sense, in a moment, when everything in your life seems to be crashing down around you, the failings of the small things you think you can always count on can be tantamount to disaster. but i digress...

i'm waiting on a last minute miracle. with all of my stresses, it's hard to think that the answer to my prayers is just around the corner. it's been a long struggle. so, with the end seeming so far off, it's hard to just keep going. i've been able to keep my spirits up by talking with family and friends, spending time with sorors and my boyfriend, and just trying enjoying the little things in life. last week, the cable went out. and i lost it. i don't have much and i pay for the cable to work, so when it didn't, i had a nuclear level meltdown. so now, it feels like nothing is working like i just need it to. the frenzy of waiting on a last minute miracle seems melodramatic. i've got places to go and things to do and the car just. won't. start. so, i do what seems physically impossible. i stop, take a breath to clear my head, and give it one more try... it's got to work, right?
Labels: edit post
2 Responses
  1. Shi Says:

    Girl, I read this post nodding along the way to most of it. I understand trying (moreso needing) to believe that whatever's burdening you will lift and let you breathe is right around the corner or on the other side of one more prayer. You are def not alone and I hope that the other side isn't too far away. Great post.

  2. sarah Says:

    thanks Shi!

    when you're in the middle of a storm or an attack, it's hard to see the end, or just plain see clearly, isn't it? the only thing you CAN do is just keep praying.

    glad to know we're not alone.