The BMV

Today, a trip to the BMV, or as some call it, the DMV. Either way, we know what happens there.

You wait. 

I was with Christopher. We had been running a few errands and this one was on the list. As soon as we walked through the door we could feel it. An aura. It surrounded everyone in the room, like a nimbus above their heads. Eyes are glazed over. There is very little movement. It is like the sitting walking dead.

Christopher commented about the chairs. Since he is a designer, he notices everything. There are three throws of folding metal chairs. A thin padding covers the seat and back. But it is a mirage. It is faux padding. You sit, expecting softness but it does not come. It is actually worse than no cushion. You expect more, but get less. 

Christopher said that there should be rows of easy chairs in here; reclining La-Z-Boys, perhaps a cashmere throw laid neatly across the arm.

I would like a coffee bar, too. You could sit in comfort and warmth while sipping a hot cappuccino. These things would bring a sense of peace in a non-peaceful setting. Tension would melt away. People may actually smile. And if you are not in too big of a hurry, when your number is called out, you may even say “Oh, I’m fine. Go to the next number. I want to finish my caramel macchiato.” 

Yes, I am dreaming. But there must be something that can be done to bring a brightness.

It is dismal in there. The employees are kind but they quietly chat and laugh about private jokes. We are at their disposal. They have all of the power in this section of frozen time. 

Finally, your number is called. Angels voices start to warm up. The clouds part slightly.

And then, victory! The dripping golden words of the clerk…”You are all done. Have a nice day.”

You open the heavy glass door and re-enter a world where all is familiar; where things make sense.

The angels are in full-singing mode. The sunshine is warm upon your face. You have powered through, mostly unscathed, for one more year. 

Author: Rebecca Hendrixson

Hello, I'm Rebecca. I am a wife and mother and freelance writer. I love to share honest thoughts, anecdotes, incidents and encouragement. I am documenting my one year of being 60 years old. Join me on the journey. And please leave comments or send me an email. I will respond. We are all in this together. Come be my comrade.

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