A man behind the wheel, talks to the audience:
BILLY: Every day at 6pm sharp, I hop in my car. I take Sepulveda home, to avoid rush hour on the 405. I put on my Neil Young CD. And sing my heart out during all those thirty seven minutes of my drive home. Every day. But there was something different about today: It's 6 'o'clock. Like every other day. But the road seems foggy, from the get go. So foggy I wonder if there was a wildfire up in the mountains. I turn off Neil Young and listen to the radio a bit. Nope. Nothing about fires. So I slip Neil back in and turn my headlights to brave the fog. It's getting blurry now. So blurry I have to slow down quite a bit. I can see only the back lights of the Honda in front of me. And then even that disappears from my view. I can only see an inch in front of me now. An inch of gravel and pavement. I turn Neil down so I can hear my heart beating louder now. Hearing it unnerves me but strangely it also calms me a bit. Something about listening to a constant pulse, I guess... Don't know what, but something... I figure I'll check my gps to see if there is any accident I should be aware of. But there's no service where I am.. none at all.. I must be right near the 405 now. I slow down even more. I think I am driving twenty now. So slow and yet I still can only see an inch and everything beyond is a mystery, is the unknown, is non existent. And then... in the blur... peeks... out of the shadows...: a LIGHT. It's not a traffic light. It's the car in front of me. It's STOPPED. I press on the break as fast as I can. Squeak! My engine makes a sound, it doesn't like my hasty breaking... but the poor Subaru will have to deal with it, after all I was a second from hitting that Honda. With my leg on the break, I wait. A minutes goes by. Then another. And another. Five minutes in I start wondering what the heck is going on on Sepulveda Blbd in a foggy evening in January!? And then... A tap on my window shield. It's a woman, and she has concern in her eyes and soft long black hair. I roll my window. 'Yes?' 'Hi! Yes, God, I hope you can help me? I have, um, a flat tire or something. The car won't move. It won't move!' Her voice breaks at the end of her plea. I start thinking she must have something important to go to. I give her the ole' heroic 'You got it' and head out of the car. She leads me to her car and standing side by side now I see how beautiful this woman is, how enchanting... She introduces herself: She is Marti. It's short for Martinia. It's an Italian name and she is named after her great grandfather. And then I know: From the fog comes the light. This is the woman I will spend the rest of my life with. Marti. She is the one. Yes, there was definitely something different about today. And it wasn't just THE FOG.
In April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling.
Header Art: Daniel Landerman