Just another Wednesday evening

I started the day grumpy, my nerves jangled from too little sleep and too much coffee, slammed down from seven to nine while I struggled around the house.  I moved an appointment to the afternoon and drove to the drugstore, hoping that I’d find a parking place.  I had been unsuccessful on the previous evening, circling two or three times before heading home, discouraged.  I had more luck this time, and got my prescription, heading to the office with a tin of nuts, a few protein bars, and a bottle of the drug that’s supposed to change my life.

I parked in front of my office building and pulled my carry bag from the car, just as a guy holding two paper sacks trudged passed.  He smiled from under uncut hair and a greasy cap, showing his broken teeth.  The smile hit his eyes and flowed to me.  I went into the building, feeling a little lighter.

The next seven hours drained the golden glow.  A client meeting, some misplaced documents, low blood sugar, and pain, always pain.  By five o’clock, I considered my options and ended the work day.  Back into the car went  carry bag and pocketbook.  I sat for a few minutes, listening to NPR, watching thin men and lightly dressed women moving into and out of the coffee shop next door.  The wind ruffled the silken edges of a little girl’s skirt; her mother reached a hand down to steady the child as she opened the car door.  Nobody looked at me.

I headed towards home.  In the quiet of the car, I considered the evening ahead.  As I idled at a red light, I stared at a tree next to the curb, almost unaware of the slight swaying of its branches in the quickening wind.  And then, just before the light changed, a woman stepped onto the curb.    I studied her form, thick and bent.  A honk behind me startled me back to focus, and I drove on, wondering, as the sun began to slide  toward the western horzion and the traffic flowed towards home.


One thought on “Just another Wednesday evening

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *