This Moment: 10 July 2012 - DMV Drivers License Division
Every grey vinyl and metal seat for the first three rows is occupied by drivers waiting for their number to be called. 252 is now being served. Now 253 is being served at Window 4. A child directly behind me is listing the upcoming days and their temperatures in an alternating whining and sing-song voice. The noise in this room is as loud and assaulting as Walmart acoustics. My daughter has her blond hair piled on the top of her head in a loose knot. The skin of her forearm looks ghostlike in comparison to my olive. A child dressed only in a patterned diaper is pounding the chairs in front of where I am seated. It is unbearably hot outside, and despite the cool circulated air, heat lingers in pockets each time the door opens. Number 256 is called and my daughter walks to Window 7 to renew her license. The next time she is required to renew it, she will be four years older and experienced in the world as an adult and will no longer require my help. I wonder what the next four years are hiding behind it's back. It is likely my daughter may be married, with a child, my grandchild. I am certain the years hold departures in its tight fists. The test came back negative. A relief. Also a frustration. More blood tests are required to find the source of his ailment. The years will find the answer.