So the event that I am about to describe actually took place a few weeks ago. My friends have been on my case to start blogging for awhile now and I thought that my first experience picking up a hitch hiker would be a great starting point.
Now a little background here, I am from the midwest, a suburb of Detroit to be more specific. So rewind back to Michigan and my first summer after college - I took my first nursing job in downtown Detroit. Now you may be thinking Why would anyone who is sane want to do that? Perhaps I will discuss the reasons for my decision in another blog. But to put it simply, I've always enjoyed a challenge, and I like working in other cultures - inner city Detroit is definitely another culture! When I worked down there, I learned to take safety very seriously. Never ever walk to your car alone, always hold your keys (your weapon!) in a concealed place so that you are ready for an attacker, and when you stop at a light, leave space between you and the next car, so that you can move around it if you need to get away fast. And P.S. Don't trust any of your coworkers - they could have a gun in their locker (Okay, maybe this last part is a slight exaggeration, but I did know one nurse who kept a gun in her locker).
All of that to say I lived, breathed, ate and slept play it safe. I had to - and it worked, I'm still here! I loved my work in Detroit: I loved being a minority, I loved working with people who had grown up in such a different world than I had, I loved those adorable African American babies, but (and there's always a but, right?) with so many positives, there's usually a payoff. Working in that place made me afraid. It made me afraid of people I did not know, especially those in a lower socioeconomic situation. I took away a lot of good things from that job, but I also took away a lot of fear.
So fast forward to Colorado Springs 8 years later. I'm joy riding in my new Rav 4 (with the sunroof open!) I had finally traded in my college clunker for a new SUV, or CUV as one of my friends likes to call it (chick utility vehicle). It is a gorgeous spring day in Colorado, the snow is melting off Pikes Peak, and the sky is that deep, deep ocean blue that seems absolutely perfect to me. Life is good.
And then I saw her walking along the side of the road. She was probably 19 or 20. She was carrying a carseat with a chubby baby in it. The visor was pulled out over the infant's face to shield her from the sun. Now I know from experience after experience that even newborns in a carseat, be it Bugaboo or Grayco, are heavy! Hauling those kids around is quite the workout. I saw her stop by the side of the road and sit down beside her baby. She looked exhausted. I kept driving.
Now I'm speeding down Academy Boulevard with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, and I'm thinking (and I will be brutally honest here) Work hard or die hard. People who don't work, walk. I'm sorry to admit that, but it's true. I'm tempted to blame my thoughts on my live free or die hard midwest work ethic, but the truth is, there really are no excuses.
I went up to the next light and did a U-turn (I still like doing those - because I can!) As I headed southbound on Academy, I could see that she had picked up the carseat and was walking again, one shoulder hanging lower than the other with the weight of the child. She could stab me, I thought to myself, and then I pulled over.
"Do you want a ride?"
"Yes!" And she walked towards my car (oops, I mean my sport ute!)
Now here's my confessional thought, Why would you put your little baby in a stranger's car? What kind of mother would do such a thing? She's either desperate, or she trusts me.
The carseat was Bugaboo, I know that brand well. I strapped the carseat with the child, who was screaming at that point, in my backseat. She must have thought her mother was giving her away, sweet baby. Her mother slid in beside her and we were off.
It was a short ride - about six miles, and the young mother and I talked most of the way. As it turns out, I had actually cared for the little baby when she was in the neonatal ICU at the hospital. She explained how the baby was named after her grandmother, and what a gift the child was. She thanked me over and over for taking her home. I dropped them off at their apartment, and that was it.
As I was driving away I felt a sense of freedom, I felt blessed. As funny as it may sound, I felt like picking up that Mom and baby was one of the best things that would ever happen to my new Rav 4. I thought about what freedom there is in not being afraid. And I thought about how afraid I used to be.
I had saved that mother a hellacious afternoon of toting her child six miles in the hot sun. And she had helped to save me from my fears. I love life's surprises.
