“One day something pretty miraculous happened”


Isabella left Puerto Rico in the 1970s bound for Louisiana. She had pretty big dreams, just like anyone else graduating college and looking for a better life. I believe she found a better life, but it didn't happen right away.

Isabella had requested a lyft from Publix to her home. As I was loading her groceries into the back of my Jeep, I noticed a bottle of wine. I asked her what the occasion was. She responded by telling me it was her birthday. On the way home, she mentioned that she is a cardiovascular nurse. She also spoke about how she missed New York and the ease of being able to get from one place to another. She's not a giant fan of our transit system here in Clarksville, and this isn't the first time I've heard that from a passenger.

Isabella's first job in the US was at a hospital in Louisiana. The facility was in need of staff who could speak Spanish. Isabella was in the right place at the right time. The good news didn't stay good, very long, though. I can imagine a lot has changed in fifty years, but I can also imagine some things still seem like they happened yesterday. Isabella was not met with open arms or given any number to call in case she was harassed in any way. Instead, Isabella came home to graffiti painted on her walls and co-workers who made it obvious, "her kind" were not welcome. She packed her belongings and moved again.

This time Isabella found herself in New York, where she stayed several years before coming to Clarksville. The Big Apple provided her with a new job and others from Puerto Rico who made her feel more at home. When Isabella first arrived in Louisiana, she was undoubtedly exposed to hate right away. Eventually, the hate had found its way into her own heart. She had a difficult time trusting any group who reminded her of the people who first introduced her to the new life she'd sought out. She could have quickly become even more bitter as time wore on and possibly allowed these dark feelings to overcome her. One day something pretty miraculous happened.

Isabella was assisting a surgeon and had an opportunity to hold a beating heart in her own hands. At that moment, an undeniable love hit her like a moving train. Isabella realized the heart she held in her hand looked like every other heart she'd ever seen. If the patient weren't lying directly in front of her, she wouldn't know who this heart belonged. Isabella held life in her hand, and that life had no color, or race, or religion. Isabella told me from that moment on, she stopped judging people by groups or skin color and only saw the character in individuals.

I believe Isabella was indeed the right person in the right place this time. She experienced two life-changing moments, and luckily she let the second one define her.
I helped Isabella take her groceries in, and I wished her a happy birthday. I also told her I'd be glad to give her a ride again sometime, at least until our transit system has improved.