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Morning Commute

An ordinary Wednesday. Into my car with the broken taillight and tiny drops of sap from the Ginkgo tree covering the white paint, thinking again that perhaps the car needs better attention. At least it’s not cluttered on the inside. No garbage or clothing or papers or junk left behind. Down the long driveway and onto my narrow street, never taking alternate routes. No music. Just the quiet engine. A left turn and then a right turn. The thought of a past birthday enters my mind for no apparent reason. A photo from that day, which leads to another unwanted image in my mind that disturbs me and sends my body into high alert. I feel a rip within my heart and a shudder that begins from the top of my head and moves to the bottom of my feet. As I approach a red light, the uncontrollable tears begin to well. I breath deep to gain control of the force that has interrupted my usually uneventful drive to work. I have learned that if I open my eyes wide and don’t blink, the tears will resorb without falling onto my cheeks. This is accomplished as I make my left turn and go under the interstate, past all the entering and exiting traffic, past the dead brush, past the garbage bins waiting for pick-up, past the grapes beginning to turn, half green and half gold, past the winery signs, past the general store, past the fire station, past the road kill and the black crows plucking at the decaying flesh, past the goats, past more grapes. And then a left turn. I’ve arrived.

2 Comments Post a comment
  1. Bre Power Eaton #

    You transformed sadness into something more than a potentially bad morning– A heartwrenching yet lovely rumination about moving on. Thanks for sharing 😉

    October 17, 2012
    • I so appreciate the way you saw that, Bre…and so glad you wrote! xoxo

      October 17, 2012

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