The Tow Truck Driver
A reflection on my encounter with a disavowed part of self.
I feared this moment would come
I thought I’d put it to sleep
In my dreams
But here we are
A living encounter
A chance for redemption?
I couldn’t possibly call a tow truck
It goes against everything I believe
What do I believe?
They are the scum of the earth!
Vultures!
Preying upon the weak and injured
Ruthless!
And here he is
Already running to his own clock
Parked out the front
Awaiting direction
But also going where he pleases
He is short on the phone
Punctuated.
And I am flustered
My charm doesn’t work on him
None of my tricks work on him
There is no room for error
Orders are given
And I comply
I must gesture a question to him
As if to ask: “How do you do it?”
He replies: “I have thick African skin”
He even moves like an elephant
Trampling up the driveway
Doesn’t care if he parks people in
Or stops traffic
He has the utmost devotion
To his cause
I am a child
And he is the authority
I scorn him
Yet I need him
He is the last resort
He puts my heavy burden
Upon his rugged shoulders
And carries it for me
It all happens so quickly
My car is loaded
He says “I’ve got this”
I resist the urge
To stay and check if he really does…
I walk away
Self-soothing
Hand on heart
Affirming:
“You can trust”
“You can trust”
“You called him in…”
“You can trust”
