Swerving on the Autobahn

It was before and during the time when I met my future husband. In my early 20s I spent time at the apartments of my two brothers, both living in the same three family home in Central El Paso in the late 70s, early 80s. It is where I would stand, pass the doobie, and listen to Kraftwerk. The friends there were mainly my brothers', but I'd known them for a decade, so we were family all of us, in a way. My older brother held court at those parties and we all gave him the floor. He was seldom nice to me. I should have turned and left, but I stayed, low self esteem, bored in West Texas, not knowing what else was outside the border city, and most the time not caring. I was so lost and so needing to be found in those days.

Tonight on WNYC's Soundcheck, I hear that Kraftwerk is playing eight nights at MOMA and I am thrown back to the patio of my younger brother, the music spitting out into the quiet, lonely street. Sometimes it all - the drink, weed, and music - was too much, too much joy, too much tension, too much nothing. My mother was hurt and never going to get better. The center dropped out, but still, now I know I was blooming into a fabulous woman, no place or situation could stop it. I see it in my older daughter as I sit across from her at dinner tonight and I witness her glory. The shaping of the face, the hair, softer than the jeans I zipped up, flat on my bed, breathing in, ready for the night. Nature carries on and hopes for the best.

Somehow I drifted from the parties of my brothers and ended up rocking in front of boulder-sized speakers at the Treetop where I would dance, feeling nothing but freedom. There I met my husband. Not the finest place, but it was indeed my destiny for my daughters are my center.

I've never forgotten what happened inside me when I was dancing. I pray it is what lives in me as a writer, as I venture into the waters again, cold, never liked the womb, bad experience I suspect. I hear the taunting of my brother as his court closes down for the night and his eyes light on me and I know I am hamburger.

As Kraftwerk plays this week, I walk the streets of my city, and I wink and wave.

We both made it out alive.