life's too short to make all of your own mistakes

scooters.

envisioning myself riding one makes me happy. even simply saying the word makes me smile. however, as i expressed interest to my mother, she advised me against it. she said she used to ride one back in vietnam when ho chi minh city was still saigon. my grandparents were merchants, and one day as she was bringing things to and from the market, she got into an accident. with these words, i imagined food and feathers flying everywhere along a dirt road with the scooter lying sideways in the middle of a commotion. then she snapped me back to reality by reminding me of the teeth work she had done and the large flower-looking scar on her elbow.

those remnants were the result of that incident. i knew she had the scar and was with her when she went to the dentist for a check up when something seemed wrong... i just never took the time to ask how. i always forget my parents had their own lives before becoming my mom and dad. i should stop to learn about their past more often.

anyway, today at work i was carrying a big box through double doors and a man waited the extra 20 seconds to hold the door open for me. he actually waited: it wasn't just the usual push the door open for a little longer until a person holds the door open for him/herself. on the flip side, as i peddled like a drowned cat down the west side hwy, a driver who was warm and dry in his car continued to speed by the intersection as his light turned green without letting me go ahead of him. it was his right to do so, but i felt myself grow a little colder inside. though, maybe it was just the rain soaking through my clothes.