No Place Like Home
There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home! My name isn’t Dorothy, I didn’t have ruby glass slippers, I didn’t have a cowardly lion to help build my courage nor a scarecrow to borrow knowledge and wisdom, and the Tin-man wasn’t around to give me heart. I was not in Oz – I was a prisoner in my car, along with thousands of other drivers on the skating rink of Interstate I-20 trying to make it home. I was the victim of the unexpected snowstorm that pounced on our state little more than a week ago.
I had decided to waive breakfast in order to make an early start to my morning meeting in Talladega and was anticipating a hearty lunch to satisfy my grumbling tummy. Little did I know, my junk food snack of a dated 16oz Mountain Dew and a family size bag of Cheese Curls which, was uncharacteristic of my normal meal plan would be my breakfast, lunch and dinner for this two day nightmare.
My meeting ended at 11:30a.m. and at 11:42a.m. after brushing the powdery snow off my windows I watched the soft and seemingly foreboding flakes blanket the ground and the other cars while I pulled out of the college parking lot. The travel was slow and slippery and then… all at once everything came to an abrupt and complete stop! My car was surrounded by 18 wheelers and I was unable to move – and there my adventure began.
Surely the road crew would clear the traffic block and I would be home in no time. Or was that just wishful thinking? 11:40a.m. elapsed into 4:44p.m. and 4:44p.m. swiftly became 9:48p.m. 9:48p.m. became 12:30a.m.
The hours dragged on and my vehicle became my home. It was a shelter from the freezing elements. With nothing to do but sit and think, I began to experience genuine feelings of fear. I didn’t know how long I would be stuck on the road and at the same time I was grateful that I had a home to go to when this adventure was over. I thought of the hundreds even thousands of people – families, teens, children who live in their cars, under bridges and in shelters not because they choose to, but because it is their lot in life.
As I sat restless, cold and hungry in my car the day turned into the black night. There were no lights on the road except those of the cars and trucks ahead and behind me. My cell phone had lost its charge and I had no means of communication with my family who were helpless to assist. The temperature had dropped to 19 degrees and in an effort to conserve my heat and gasoline supply, I tolerated the cold in intervals by keeping the engine off until my legs and hands started to feel numb. I had already witnessed many desperate drivers vacate their cars to walk the perilous, dark and icy stretch of I-20 in search of fuel.
This experience provided me an unmatched level of compassion for those whose daily existence revolves around the circumstances of homelessness. For many, my two day experience is a way of life; a result of poor choices or a series of unfortunate events.
Nevertheless, no matter the reason – for this moment I was in their world. When I left for my meeting at 8a.m. I was dressed in a black corporate fitted suit with a starched white collar shirt, shiny black heels, pearls adorned my neck and ears, and my make-up was flawless. I was polished and the epitome of confidence. At the conclusion of my more than 14 hours in my car I had reduced my wardrobe to the mismatched pieces of clothing I had in the trunk; a pink silk scarf to cover my head and ears, white tube socks, canvas sneakers slipped on over my hosiery, an over-sized sweatshirt and a black wool scarf to warm my exposed neck. These make-shift clothing pieces replaced the stylish black corporate attire. The multiple runs in my pantyhose which started at my cold toes were like marathon runners who found their last burst of energy and were sprinting to the finish line towards my hips. The liquid foundation and powder make-up had been absorbed into my skin hours before; my eyes resembled those of a raccoon as a result of smeared mascara.I had long since licked off the remains of my lipstick and I no longer resembled the woman who at 8a.m. had expectancy and success by the tail.
My gas needle was dropping and I had no one to impress except the stuck drivers in the adjacent cars and trucks who couldn’t care less about the woman who emerged at 8a.m. Their only concern was about their own safety and the loved ones they had waiting At Home. Captive, and totally at the mercy of whatever traffic accident or tragedy was ahead of me, I began to think – how many people who were homeless, living in their cars or a shelter once wore corporate black suits and had a destiny. How many had dreams and a vision of success? Which one of them thought that they would ever encounter a storm of adversity that would change their circumstances or situation not just for hours, but for a lifetime? When I got into my car this morning I was full of courage and anticipation of what great things I would accomplish that day but was instantly reminded of how quickly one incident or choice could alter my life. At that moment fear gripped me so tightly and I was unsure of what to do next….
Read next week’s article about my life changing shelter experience.
“I don’t have all the answers, but I know the one who does.”
Find me at www.Athomewithshellie.com.
