The engine revs. We nervously take our seats, muttering a silent prayer. Let this be a safe and peaceful drive, Lord.
Mom looks at us from the driver seat, her beaded forehead glistening with nervous sweat. Her eyes are quietly apologizing for making us undergo this ordeal, but thankful we join her in. She assures us we’re going to arrive at our destination, she just can’t tell us when. I fake a chuckle and tell her she’s gonna do good.
It’s her nth time of driving after she received her license, but we are all still nervous. Her worst trait of having none of grace under pressure, which is currently making itself very obvious, is unfortunately passed down to me. She has studied in two driving schools before she got the courage to apply for a license, that’s how nervous and scared she is. When she tries to drive with us inside out subdivision, she always asks us to pray the rosary. Our subdivision is not really that big– a couple of streets here and there, enough for a very new beginner driver to practice. But for the track that can be finished in 15 minutes, my mom sure takes her time because she crosses it in 30-40 minutes. Let’s just say it is always a bumpy ride. With lots of dying engine moments. And also with a sincere prayer from me to let us survive and live after the course.
Before I close my eyes to think of happy thoughts, try my best to dispel any horrible images in my head, and imagine us actually arriving at our destination, I see her touch the red rosary hanging from the mirror. Okay, shit’s gonna get real. We need divine intervention.
Participating in this prompt.
(PS: Hey I love my mom so much, but I really get scared when she drives! Haha)