The Moment;

Today is the first day of my life. Today I went and jumped in the ocean. A type of baptism of/for/and by myself. I needed it. I did not know this, until the moment just before I was gathering my things and headed for the door. Today I write this for me. For whoever reads. I love myself. Today perhaps is the first day that I can even know this. Today I have committed to being ME. In all my shit. Thank whatever it is that gave me life and thinks I should still be here. Thank you.

But since I’m here, it’d be nice to write about my experience just after my transformational dip in the ocean. As I’m entering the parking lot from the beach there is this travelers van pulling out of a parking space. The two women in the van are looking in my direction, but I don’t imagine that they’re trying to get MY attention. 1, I’m trying to stay in my moment. My transformational dip. It is not the time to be distracted by these two women, certainly not trying to get my attention. However, as I keep walking their looks follow. They are trying to get my attention. I stop. The girl on the passenger side asks “ Is the tire flat? “… I look at the tire... “ Yes, this tire is flat ” ... “Thank you”. And I keep walking. As I’m walking I'm telling myself not to go back and weasel my way into some interaction. Telling myself to stay in MY moment. But, I also feel the familiar feeling of fear, overthinking, and letting life pass me by, yet again. Didn’t I just jump in the ocean to not live like this? This is the moment, now, Chris. I turn, I go back, I ask if they needed help. They gleefully say yes! And thank you! And ask if I had the tools to change this tire. To be honest, Ive changed a tire before, some years ago. Likely with some help. I’m sure I can figure it out, but I don’t go in with the best confidence in my ability to make this a smooth change. I will surely fumble. I don’t care, this is the moment. This is when I learn.

I might have the tool actually in the car that I’m driving, I recently bought this car from my ex-girlfriend. And she is ALWAYS prepared. I have never known her to need anything, and not have it, on-hand. So even though I have rummaged through my junk in the trunk a million times, and have never come across a jack, my reason tells me, it’s a high possibility I have simply been overlooking it trusting in my ex-girlfriend’s preparedness. I say “ I might have a jack, let me see” and head to my car. (Worth mentioning that also, I am skeptical of the situation, two beautiful women, some beat-up travelers van, flat tire, is there a man with them that will hit me over my head and throw me in this van? What’s the hustle?) The passenger, as she walks with me to the car mentions she needs to be at the airport soon, I ask where she’s from. She says “Costa Rica, but I am leaving for Indonesia” — Well, I have seriously been considering moving or simply visiting Costa Rica as my friends speak so highly of it. So this was interesting. I tell her that, she says “well maybe it’s meant to be”... I ask her if she’s just a traveler, she says yeah, she’s a photographer. I mention my camera (never used) but tell her I am interested in the cooking/food industry, she says she went to culinary school. Now I’m like, okay, where is the man that’s going to bash my head and steal my car? — we reach my car, I rummage the trunk, as I remembered, no jack. Wait, under all my junk I see a handle, I’ve never seen this before, I reach for it, lift it, and boom. Jack and tools. She’s always prepared. I mentally thank my ex-girlfriend for equipping me. We walk back over to the van, now, I have the tools, I volunteered myself, we’re walking over to the van, it’s time to do the thing. I fumble a little bit, that’s okay. I’m in the moment. Now, up until this point I have been interacting with the passenger who is easily deemed attractive, I have had some glances at the driver, in which I have deemed the passenger the more attractive of the two. Not true. But back to what’s happening. I’m lifting the van, its working kind of? After too long of me simply trying to lift the van with a honda civic jack, I get the sense it’s not lifting. The driver has now come around, watching my work, and says plainly, in her accent. “It’s not lifting”.

She asks me, “Whats the name of this tool? In English?”

I say “Jack”.

She leaves.

I see her talking with an older Hispanic man in a pick -up truck nearby, okay. She’s found her man for the job. He has a better jack, undoubtedly, but he’s older and his knees are bad so he can’t do the job. So the task is still mine, thankfully, I’d like to do this. They bring the jack over, and now I hear the woman speaking fluent Spanish. Ah. The man hands me the new jack, places it in a more appropriate place under the car and I start to crank. He tries to show me a way of doing it, but the driver won’t let the man get down on his knees. She starts to do it herself, but I won't let the woman who won’t let the old man do it, do it. So I take the jack back from her. For a brief moment, her hands were seemingly on-top of mine as we both cranked the jack. She finally lets me back to the job. But stays, and watches me. But not a distrustful watch, a supportive, this is my moment too, type of watch. My general audience from before has now become one, right here, no hiding. She smiles, lets out laughs that communicated support in place of words. We are having fun.

I don’t know when or how this part of the story happened, because I remember this as a oner, a flowing process of me with 1 jack, getting a second, and finishing the job and going home. But this did happen, and I can’t place how or when. There was a moment that the driver, Glenda, and I were sitting on a ledge, talking. I found out she too was from Costa Rica, ah. She too was a private chef and nutritionist. Where did these women come from? I’m thinking. I tell her too, I was thinking about moving to Costa Rica and that I am at the beginning of my cooking career. She showed appreciation in her whole constitution. Everything was genuine, I could tell. I just couldn’t understand how? I told her why I wanted to cook, and how I figured it would help me in anchoring myself since I felt so adrift as a child. I told her about how I wasn’t raised in the traditional sense, and that the absence of the iconic “Mother and Father” structure had led me to the kitchen.

She said, “ I wasn’t raised by my family either, me too.”

The connection was becoming clearer.

I asked her if she felt ‘alone’

“No.”

“No?” … Less clear.

I assumed she didn’t understand due to a language issue. I reiterated,

“So you feel connected to people, lotta friends?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly, her answer made sense. That’s what this unfamiliar feeling is. Her acceptance.

And now, after my leap of acceptance, this is life.

She asked me what I like to cook, I told her I didn’t know, I was just beginning.

I asked when and where did she learn to like cooking.

She said, with a sense of “very simply”, “whatever I want to eat, go to google, and go and get nice ingredients, make it”

Yeah, I guess it is that simple.

And suddenly that moment is over.

I also noticed, while working, that the passenger that originally spoke to me, her name I never got, or maybe I had but it did not stick. I look over and notice her talking with a black woman in the passenger seat of a car parked two stalls over. The black lady is cracking up, whatever original passenger is saying to this lady is hilarious, it almost looked as if they were two old friends. I actually briefly considered this as the case. Except I know original passenger does not know these people. Who are these girls? Just a positive spell on this whole area. Why are they so calm? This girl has to be at the airport for Indonesia in 35 minutes and she currently has a flat tire. I figured they’d called an uber for her, so that’s why they’re not stressing. Or maybe they do this all the time, so if they miss a flight no biggie? I kept cranking. I wanted to try and get her there on time, for some reason, even though I knew, that wasn’t happening. More working, more support from Glenda. The older Hispanic man (He’s Mexican, from Guadalajara, I overheard him telling Glenda in Spanish) who offered his jack and showed me ways I could use it was also hanging by, watching. He wished he could do it, but Glenda would not let him, and he knew he shouldn’t. So, he sat by and supported me as well. Me, him, and Glenda. For a brief second, we felt like a family. Later, when I finished the change, and we were all leaving one another, I saw the way Glenda handled the old man, as if he was her grandfather, she touched him on the shoulder lovingly, and then hugged him. It felt I was the only person around that had heard of the term “Social Distance”. This, this is social intimacy. After the beautiful farewell to the man I knew it soon would be my time to be saying goodbye, I wondered what it would be? This has been one deeply significant experience for me, how is this going to end? The love, the freedom, the jump, the mystery, the learning, the luck, the family, how will all this come to its end? I helped lift the old tire into the van. “Who’s van is this”, I ask.

“A friend”

Okay, friends in America with the perfect van for them. Makes sense.

As we put the old tire in its place, I notice Glenda has a tattoo on her back. A flower? A lotus? I don’t quite make it out.

Okay. It’s time.

Original Passenger comes over first to thank me. She gives me a handshake and then comes in for a hug. This person continued with a smile on her face from the beginning to the end of this experience. And never showed the slightest sense that she was going anywhere. But as it were, she had a flight.

Then Glenda comes over, they both hug me. They thank me. I’m facing the ocean that I can only thank for its ability to wash, its long history of being perfect.

Glenda pulls back but keeps her hands on me.

She starts saying something, in Spanish, to me. Knowing I don’t understand, but knowing I needed to hear it. As if she knew her words would guide even if the captain didn’t understand the plans. The only goodbye full enough to close this series of events. Some dictum in a foreign language, by two people from a different time, on no particular time but on the go, this was the moment, but as moments go, they go.

Glenda asks if there was a way she could contact me.

Of course. Let me go get my phone from the car, she suggests maybe I can just give her my number.

There would be no way.

I say to myself, “Nah” and head to my car. I have learned my lesson on this plenty of times before.

I will have this number.

Give her my phone through the minimally opened window. Both windows were taped up.

She puts her number into my phone. “Glenda Costa Rica “

She calls me darling in Spanish.

She tries to teach me how to say it.

It doesn’t happen.

She gives me my phone

“Nosotros Comida”

Translated, “We Food.”

She says, “I would love it”

And that was it. The first moment on my first day.