THE CREATIVE ART OF RIDING IN CARS
As a child, car rides
with my dad were filled with adventure and made-up stories.
Carriages and stagecoaches rode along with us as
my imagination took off. Seeds were planted for my writing journey.
But, during the 60s riots, my car ride was filled
with fear. I hid between the seats as looters boldly ran out of stores with
clothing and appliances.
Following that, sadness filled the car. My
grandmother died of a heart attack at 48, horrified by the riots. Her loss was
heavy and filled the car like stones.
When I became a mom to my adopted daughter, Faith,
car rides were filled with songs, counting, and repeated questions like,
"Who's Mama's best girl?" Her bright eyes would twinkle and a smile
would stretch out, "It's me! Right?"
What memories I have riding in cars.
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