DAWN

The predawn morning is always the same; silent, dark, and still. Besides me, the only people stirring at this hour are service workers, half-awake, and hurrying to minimum wage jobs. Mama was one of those workers, perpetually rising before the sun, leaving her sleeping kids behind.

            As I set myself in motion, easing into my run, I wonder what Mama thought about during her early morning commutes. I try to imagine what it must have been like to be Mama. In my mind’s eye, I conjure up an image of our old Pontiac station wagon with wooden side panels, cruising down dark streets, Mama sitting alone in the driver’s seat, wearing her 1980s 7-Elven smock, probably singing along with the radio. Mama loved music.

            Gliding down tranquil streets, I stretch my ear backward, reaching through time, hoping to hear Mama singing. As I listen, Mama’s voice echoes from the past.

Stumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen,
Pour myself a cup of ambition

Mama loved Dolly

Yawnin'
Strechin'
Tryin' come to life

Dolly was Mama’s alter-ego, the person she might have been if she possessed the ability to come alive. Or at least, Dolly is who I imagined Mama might have been had her life not been sidetracked at such a young age.

Jump in the shower, and the blood starts pumpin'
Out of the streets, the traffic starts jumpin'
with folks like me on the job from 9 to 5

I never understood how Mama did it; she always had a job. I can’t recall a time when Mama was unemployed. I know Mama hustled on the side, selling her prescription pills to anyone she deemed in need and willing to pay. Mama didn’t only push pills; she participated in a string of pyramid schemes and multilevel marketing ventures; Mama could sell anything to anyone. My favorite side gig was delivering phone books on the weekends. Mama would let Lisa and me sit in the way back with the rear-facing window rolled down. We’d toss the Yellow and White Pages from Mama’s car while music blasted through the speakers.

Workin' 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin' and no givin'

As I pass under the glow of an orange streetlight, my body radiates a smile remembering Mama always found a way—goddamn, those were good times.

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