Ode to the Un-Licensed Soul

by Ryan Benson

Do you see it? That rectangular, celestial light at the end of this abhorrent tunnel? Peculiar... that light has an uncanny resemblance to freedom, wouldn't you say? Wait, just wait a moment, is a middle-aged, faintly-mustached woman holding the light? By golly! It's the DMV lady and, if I'm not mistaken, that's a license in her hands!

On this cherished day, the day that the pixies of the DMV eradicate the shackles that bind me to license-lessness and permitted driving, the day that I frolic like a free elf into the galaxy's flowered fields, er, highways, I take a moment of reflection and remembrance. Remembrance of the girl who had the bizarre but unwavering determination to walk three miles on a scorching hot summer afternoon for iced coffee. Remembrance of the girl who incessantly failed to attend social functions for lack of a ride. Remembrance of the girl who got into many-a-tussel with her mother for "driving recklessly" and "exceeding the speed limit" and "forgetting to check her mirrors adequately." Remembrance of the girl who guiltlessly used her friends as chauffeurs. Remembrance of the girl who nestled in the carpool pick-up semi-circle after school, surrounded by freshmen and other gooby, unlicensed sophomores. May we recognize the fights won and lost by that girl. May that girl rest in peace.

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