Morning Tears at The Gas Station
Laurie Benson 2022
Morning Tears at The Gas Station
Laurie Benson 2022
This morning tears come easily.
I must have felt sad another
morning when the frost was
on the ground in January.
Bodies remember this.
I sit by the fire and eat
the steel cut oats with
berries, contemplate.
Why tears? Today is a
day of freedom, taking
time into my hands and
molding it into anything.
Anything.
Slowly the memory comes.
from years ago, maybe
eight now, me in my car
parked at the gas station
before work.
Body heavy, many sorrows,
and wondering how I
could do that day, any
more days with such sorrow.
Sobs came then and I leaned
over the steering wheel.
Someone knocked on my
window and startled me.
“Are you okay?” he said,
through the closed window.
I rolled it down a crack and
said yes. Always yes. I’m
fine. Always fine.
“Then why are you crying?
Do you need help?”
I looked into his young
brown eyes, orange construction
vest unzipped and well-
worn work boots.
Coffee in hand, water and
a biscuit for work, he had
Somehow noticed me,
A woman twice his age,
sobbing in her car.
He seemed to be the
age of my son. Truthfully,
then, I said, “No, I’m not okay.
I’m so worried about my
son.”
No comment from him
Just contemplation.
He closed the lids over
those dark eyes and a
small frown crossed his mouth.
My mom knows how you
feel, he said. My brother
was killed by the Mexican
Cartel. I can’t hug her, but
maybe you need a hug?
Out of character, I agreed
and got out of the car to
hug a son of a wounded
mother, like me. A son
who knew that he could
watch out for another
mother, and someone would
watch out for his.
Suddenly I felt like I
was human again, and
everything would be okay.
And now the steel cut
oats are gone, the
memory re lived, and
I will go out into this
frosty day and look
look for another
wounded someone
who needs not to
be asked, “How are you,”
But, “Are you okay?”
Comments