Every evening after sundown, I drive Noé, my special needs son, in my beat-up little red car 🚗 through the gutted lanes of my hometown, at a bulldozer's pace, going nowhere.
The more I drive, the more the streets seem to reflect the rugged last lap of my personal 'Way of the Cross': the craters, the boulders, the pipe-bursts, the gutted cables, poor visibility in the muddy-brown haze, street lamps that only intensify the darkness, and the road rage that’s only getting worse.
And it doesn’t even feel strange anymore that I feel like a ‘Estrangeiro’ in my own hometown.
The more I grumble and my car rumbles, the more Noé enjoys the ride. Guardian angels are masters of disguise. 👼
And so I keep driving—for Noé, for me; driving to the tune of Jesus Take The Wheel (my anthem)—because, on life’s highway, there's no U-turn.