Highways to Nowhere. Pt. I

(from my personal journal: 2/11/2009)

She came into my workplace with a baby in her arm and a newborn in a stroller. I forget what her driver's license said, but she must have been in her early 50's or so; the bags under her eyes were in full bloom and the wrinkles on her face were like highways on a road map, leading to nowhere. Her hair was slowly turning into a web of gray. If you could personify stress, indignation, and unfortunate, this would be the person standing before you. I don't remember her name, and her words were in a language I couldn't understand. Regardless, she changed my life forever.

All she brought was 6 W2 forms, her last year's tax return paperwork, and an eviction notice from her landlord. It turns out that this woman's husband passed away 3 years ago and is taking care of 4 children and 2 grandchildren (who, by this time, are chewing up my pens and pencils and mixing up my paperwork). In one year, she worked 6 jobs to bring in less than $12,000 for the year.

Her coat had a strong, pungent smell of poverty. Her fingernails were yellow like an old book's pages and had dirt under them. She was missing a handful of teeth. 

With a few keystrokes and a spanish-english dictionary, I'm able to get her enough of a tax return to keep her apartment. To feed her grandchildren for a few more weeks. Maybe even to buy herself new shoes since it hurts for her to walk 2 miles to the canneries to work.

After the good news, she starts crying and whispers something to me that I don't understand, and takes off. 

I still don't know her name, but I thought about her a lot today and about her life and lifestyle, which is why I decided to write this entry. If I meet her again, I have so many questions for her and I would really want to share with her that she gave me a personal epiphany and taught me an important life lesson:

The most privileged people in our world have the most responsibility. It just so happens that the most privileged tend to be the least responsible.