Moment| Stacie Morris

I sat in our red Chevy Blazer with a pile of mail on my lap. The sun came in through the windows heating the air around me. I watched my husband walk toward the apartments that my family owned. I could see that the chill of the air outside was creeping through his clothes. He pulled his arms close to his body as if this single action would ward off the on coming breeze. As he walked into the apartments I glanced down at the pile of mail I held. I began to shuffle through the small stack and watched as the bills and junk mail flipped past my eyes. As I neared the end of the pile a return address caught my attention. I opened the envelope slowly, expecting the usual advertisement, and pulled the mass of papers out. It seemed as if the envelope had exploded on my lap as flyers and instructions slipped out of my grip. Then with a wave of excitement I saw what I dared not hope for, my very first credit card. I pulled the paper it was attached to closer to me and watched in awe as the card reflected the road behind the Blazer. I quickly ripped the card from the adhesive, which attached it to the paper. There are the bottom of the blue shinny plastic was my name. Excitement turned to pride as it realized that I had actually qualified for this card. As my husband briskly walked back to the Blazer another realization struck me and it was more bitter, this card, this wonderful piece of plastic, would inevitably turn into another bill.