Driving with Fear
By Bernadette Anderson
Driving home from my daughter’s house
dusk turns to dark
and I swap seats with my companion fear.
Fear grips the steering wheel tightly,
shuffles the seat forward,
so knees are knocking under the dashboard.
Rain splatters the windscreen
and fear turns the wipers on.
I wind my window down a touch.
Fear sits rigid, focused, holding its breath.
Traffic is building.
A sea of light,
headlights and streetlights twinkle in rain washed streets.
Hurried traffic slows fear.
Fear cannot see very well.
Cannot see, cannot see, cannot see
the wipers chant.
Check every mirror, check your blind spot.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Fear negotiates hazardous traffic
Suddenly, no signal at the intersection.
Fear carefully inches the car forward,
waits and waits and waits
for the gap that won’t appear.
Traffic is filing up behind.
fear pushes the pedal,
accelerates through a tiny gap.
Off the main road now,
I swap seats with fear.
The car pulls into the driveway.
I get out, quickly locking the car
and see fear lurking in the back seat
ready for tomorrows peak hour traffic.
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