I’m sitting at a stoplight
behind a white-haired woman
in a maroon sedan.
She’s missing her chance
to turn right on red
while the cross traffic
has a left arrow.
Her fluffy head turns
left right left right
but the car idles.
I’m running a little late.
The two cars that
nipped around her
before the intersection
recede into the distance
but I’m thinking about my mom
who doesn’t drive anymore
and about my dad
whom nobody passed
even in the days
of towing the sailboat to the cottage
five kids piled in the station wagon
no seatbelts
and I’m thinking about my husband
whose blood pressure would be
unhealthily high by now
and I’m blessing
this old lady
though hoping
that at the next corner
she’ll go one way
and I another.

© by Sarah Gilbert.
Used with the author’s permission.