Commute

She steps out the back door. She takes a deep breath and inhales the fresh air. Enjoying the promise of spring that the air has to offer she steps off the porch towards the garage. Her key opens the door and she steps inside. She takes a shallow breath because she can't stand the smell of the garage. The fertilizer mixed with sawdust and car exhaust are almost too much. She unlocks the van door and carefully arranges her work bag, lunch bag and purse on the seat next to her.

She steps into the car. She closes the door and presses the button that opens the garage door. The room is 100% brighter. She latches her safety belt and starts the car. She turns down the blaring radio playing 80's songs, right where the dial was left when she came home last night.

She puts the car in reverse and steps on the gas. She rockets down the driveway and onto the street. Her street, still clad in Victorian brick and hitching posts, wrecks havoc on her van. Its uneven path bounces her to and fro. She silently curses the road as she hears her shocks squeal in protest.

She steps on the gas, in a hurry as usual, zipping towards the interstate. The interstate, smooth and speedy. The interstate full of other commuters whizzing their way to a place the probably don't want to be. She steps on the gas and passes big trucks. She tries to guess what they may be hauling. Some are pretty obvious others are not. She reminisces about the days she saw the overturned Oreo truck, the Slim Jim truck, the onion truck or the pig hauler. Not bad wrecks. The drivers up walking around trying to figure out how to get their load off the interstate.

She steps on the gas realizing the radio just announced she only has 20 minutes left to get to work. She is never late, but the fear is still there. She steps on the gas and leaves the interstate. She is in the suburbs. Stop and go. Stop and Go. Wait for a bus, train, or a trash truck.

She steps on the brake. She is here with 15 minutes to spare. She turns off the car, gathers her bags and steps out of the van. She inhales the fresh air, a little cooler near the lake, and steps forward. By the look of the parking lot, she is stepping into the promise of a stressful day. She is already starting to count down the hours until she can step back into the car, onto the interstate, and back into her home.

*Mama Kat's Writers Workshop over at Mama's Losin' It