February 22, 2013

Driving with a friend in a parking lot at a large strip mall.

The lot in front of the store we want to visit has only handicap parking: row after row of blue-lined spaces. I grow frustrated and am tempted to park in one, but decide against it thinking I'd get a ticket.

We park in the adjacent lot in front of Target. This lot is filled with rows of good for sale--reminds me of a flea market. Elderly folks are picking up linens, marveling at them.

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Driving with the husband of a friend and his three small children. He sits in the front passenger seat, a small toddler on his lap, two children to his left (both a bit bigger than the one on his lap). He wears a white T-shirt. I've never met him before.

We drive over a bridge from Philly to NJ. As we approach the town where I live, we see two teens, on opposite sides of the street, pointing guns at each other. At first, this makes no sense to me and I continue driving, but suddenly we find ourselves in the middle of a gun fight. I become terrified as bullets whiz past the car, just missing us. The man next to me tells me to back up. I do and we simply drive down a parallel street.

I'm now in the back seat. No idea who is driving, but the man is still in the front passenger seat surrounded by his children. We discuss the gun fight. I lean way over the seat so I an look at him and his children with complete seriousness, "You will raise good children, and that is how we'll have hope for the future."