National Car Test
By Lyn Hagin Meade
The leaving cert all over again
But I forgot to study
And the wrong questions came up.
My stomach churns as I sit behind the glass
Like in the maternity nursery
Seeking out my baby
“Yes, that’s mine there – the silver one”
Being rocked too and fro ten feet in the air.
A frowning mechanic, intent on calibrating figures
Makes me nervous
Is it terminal?
“What’s your registration” he asks,
And I can’t remember in my agitation.
Waiting for the results
Is like scratching a lottery ticket.
I sit in the car and shake afterwards.
Passed for this year.
The woman I sat beside earlier
Goes by my window and we don’t acknowledge
Each other. Our mutual support group
For the length of time it took
To certify I can spend another year on the road.
Copyright © 2018 Lyn Hagin Meade, All Rights Reserved.