Before she arrived, there were cars — so many cars! — switched out often, like diapers, the owner so seldom seen, they might have moved themselves. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Amir had lived for more than a year on his\nown. We watched his carport from our\nkitchen window, wondering who he was, why he seldom spoke to anyone. We never found out what he did with all those\ncars, but we shamefully provided our own explanation. A single guy from Afghanistan, solitary\nhabits, and vehicles coming and going. \nWe were friendly but kept our distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then one day, a female emerged from the\ncarport. A Muslim man with a kept\nwoman? Not likely. It was his new wife, of course, brought over\nfrom the home country. She arrived when\nwe weren\u2019t looking, the car between cars, so beautiful she stopped traffic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adeela brought with her the wish to drive a\ncar. She wished so hard you could\nimagine little wheels sprouting beneath her, spinning as she folded the\nlaundry, rolling her over to us with trays of food she cooked herself. Food we felt guilty accepting, kindness\nundeserved. She would point to each item\nas we learned restaurant Farsi: Korme\nKofta. Chalow. Mashawa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the day came to take the test, she\ndressed for the occasion. Black hair\nshining on an uncovered head. Face made\nup boldly. Jewelry flashing like high\nbeams. She returned so quickly I\nwondered if the agent at the DMV had passed her automatically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now she runs the wheels off that thing. Drives it around the neighborhood like a Hot Wheels pedal car. Runs it so fast I imagine her speeding to Kabul overnight, flaunting her new freedoms then gunning it home, leaving a shimmering exhaust of spices and silk in her wake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before she arrived, there were cars — so many cars! — switched out often, like diapers, the owner so seldom seen, they might have moved themselves. Amir had lived for more than a year on his own. We watched his carport from our kitchen window, wondering who he was, why he seldom spoke to anyone. … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1983","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-vZ","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1983","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1983"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1983\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2023,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1983\/revisions\/2023"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1983"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1983"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1983"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Michele Rappoport is living the small life in Arizona and Colorado. She travels in an RV, creates tiny art, writes poetry and other short pieces, and has a certification in small-animal massage. She wishes she were taller, but she is 5\u20193\u201d and shrinking. <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"