no woman no cry

i was lazing about in the sun on my lunch break today, and i decided to read through my 'random stories' notebook. the one full of half-page scenes from my one-foot-in-front-of-the-other days. sparkly moments that stand out in sharp relief to me. usually something to do with Jesus, mysticism, some kind of fleeting epiphany.

and i came across this jot from my last week of my last year of grad school. the year that felt so far over my head that i thought i would crack. the year i was secretly eating saltines and peanut butter so i could save enough to go out once in a while for a drink with my friends. and was the grateful and humble recipient of grocery store gift cards from anonymous dear ones who knew of my plight.

and then, on this particular saturday, i was driving my 5 year old car the long haul to campus to diligently work on the remaining papers that spelled out the final chapter of my grad school existance. i still had no job, i was about to move to a new neighborhood, and i had no idea that the alternator on my car was about to implode with a sickening clunk and sputter.

but there i was, alone, in a sketchy part of town with a car that apathetically coasted towards what i can only label a miraculously situated CarX. i dropped off my car and waited, the knot growing thick in my stomach. this is what i wrote right after i had burst into tears as the mechanic told me it would cost over $700 to make my car drivable again. he gave me a $50 discount. i think because i was sobbing and so obviously terrified to be there....

Jesus and Bob Marley are playing a joke on me.

I trudged across the street to the Starbucks with tears in my eyes and my car repair estimate hot in my hand. Rehearsing to myself the absurdity of the situation and how I might tell anyone about it without having a meltdown. And I definitely did not have time for a meltdown. I was supposed to be in a computer lab in Hyde Park, cranking out my final finals. Or, in an ideal world, spending quality time with Marg and Robin before they fly out of my life at graduation. But instead I was leaving an auto repair shop with my laptop slung over my body and my unread articles weighing down the purse hanging from the crook of my elbow.

It was grey and misting, a storm brewing but not yet released. I wanted to lie down on the sidewalk and melt into the concrete. I walked across the street, climbed the stairs bleary eyed, pushed open the doors and deposited my bags. Then I heard Jesus, with a smile in his voice, impersonating Bob Marley, humming through the Starbucks stereo:
No Woman, No Cry.