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6 a.m. in Chicago. Of course the shot starts at the lake. Camera pans over the water,

and the magnificent buildings rise from the shoreline, twinkling in the dawn light. We continue

across the city, still bird's eye view, over the grid, over the elevated tracks

and wide highways, coming to rest in a western suburb, dropped down to a brick bungalow where,

inside, a woman, late 30s, moves softly past the bedrooms where her children sleep and steps

out the front door to meet the morning.

Winchell of 20 below.

She hurries to a minivan, and as she pulls away from the curb, we see the streets frosted with salt,

the moon shining high and hard, and we see her work ID where she keeps it on the center console,

the words board certified RN, and her name in all caps.

This is Mindy Figueroa.

Mindy says she was made to be a nurse.

I think I was just born to be in health care.

Like, as a kid, my sister would find all the dolls and the ballet slippers at the dollar tree, like, section.

But I always got the doctor kit.

The stethoscope, the little syringe, always, always, always.

So it was just always a thing.

Mindy was the first one in her family to go to college.

Her parents came to this country undocumented from Mexico, worked factory jobs, earned citizenship.

...