The sun rises putting its warming beams on the eastern slope of mountains west of me. The moon’s slowly moves to other side of the planet. That black of the night gives way to an overcast sky. The rising sun makes those cotton ball clouds looks so surreal.
The morning commuters begin their ritualistic journey. Those who slept in head to their favorite drive through for a caffeine fix. The early risers head the pack as they enter the freeway into the rising sun.
Morning talk show on the car radio gives the commuters a mixture of morning news and their favorite music. A select few are listening to an audio book through their car radio. They all have the same purpose. ‘Get the brain working before arriving at work.’
It is late spring. The eastbound drivers are fighting to keep the blinding brightness of the morning sun from their eyes. After work they would be traveling westbound. The drivers would be wishing the mountains were higher to block the setting sun.
Russell is one of those morning commuters. Today marks one year he has been driving eighteen point two miles from his home to a job he hates. He only took the job to put a roof over his family’s head, and food on the table.
Like any other workday Russell parks his older Toyota Corona in row three, and space number four. He removes his black laptop bag and lunch bag from behind the front seat. Each step towards work’s entrance is labored.
Morning greetings are exchanged with the security guard at the employee entrance. Both of their girls play on the same girls seventh grade volleyball team. Seeing the security guard, Russell is reminded he must pick up his daughter after work. If he is lucky enough to get out early, he can catch the last few plays of the game.
Stopping by the break-room, Russell puts his lunch in the big refrigerator. The refrigerator is stuff with varying brown paper bags, Tupperware containers, and white plastic grocery bags. Some marked with Magic Marker. Some have little labels. All of them saying, “This is mine. Don’t eat or touch.” The remaining few trust the uniqueness to keep from an accidental consumption by a fellow employee.
Finally at his workstation, Russell waits for the signal that starts his official workday. Russell just sits there and stares at his computer screen. A warm soft hand rest on his shoulder. Russell looks up to see the slender female form of a coworker.
She kneels down to look Russell in the eye. “Russ, why are you here?” She asks.
Russell just looks at her and back at his blank computer screen, then back at her.
“Russell you really shouldn’t be here, today. You have your wife’s and daughter’s funeral to attend.”
Like a flash back from some TV show. Russell saw the paramedics rolling his wife and daughter into the Hospital’s Emergency Room. The big muscle nurse holding Russell back as two teams of doctors and nurses frantically work to patch the wounds from the auto accident. Within minutes of each were pronounced dead. The injuries were just too extensive. That was a week ago.
If it wasn’t for Russell’s family living close by the funeral arrangements would not of have been made. Russell is having trouble dealing with the lost of the two people he loved more than anyone else.
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