|
The Other Driver / One Step at a Time
|
Bob Johnston
|
Nov 01, 2003 06:06 PST
|
~ The Other Driver ~
This ole highway is sure dark and lonely, with miles of nothing
in-between. I stopped and picked up a stranger to some, but no stranger
to me, so that, tonight, I would not be driving alone.
If I don’t make it home this evening, please don’t worry about me ...
'cause Jesus is driving the late shift and, when I go to bed, I will get
a good night sleep.
As I sat in the passenger seat and watched Jesus, as he shifted the
gears, I could tell that He had done this many times before ~ as He
never missed a stroke. I guess you could say, He had everything under
control.
The light was so bright, outside the truck, that I had to put on sun
shades to see the road ahead.
I should have known that Jesus had the road map already planned. There
were cars pulling off to the shoulder and people got out and waved as we
went by.
I’m sure they knew who was behind the wheel of this Big Rig tonight.
© 2003 by Robert H. Gilbert, Jr.
RGBLU-@aol.com
http://www.geocities.com/rgblueboy/StoryPoetryPage.html
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One Step at A Time
Having walked many miles in these ole shoes, my body is so tired.
My hair has turned gray and my skin is all wrinkles. Surely, there is a
better place to go.
I had been out for an afternoon walk, One Step at a Time,
and was sure glad to see the house around the corner.
Heading toward the front porch, I noticed an envelope taped to my
mailbox.
I opened it and it read, "This is the address to your new home. Please
see the attached sheet for directions."
Thinking this was a prank, I put the envelope back in the mailbox.
As I looked at the front of the house, tears begun to fill my eyes.
This ole house had been standing ever since I can remember, and I’m 105
years old! How many years I’ve been here, I’m not sure, now. My memory
is not as fast as it use to be.
While looking at the window panes, I saw that each one had a hole in it
... either by a rock or a stray bullet, or two.
The porch had wood rot from the rain that fell. Though, I was not
energetic enough to go out and sweep the water off. The front door hung
by one hinge at the top. It may fall any day now. The roof was weather
beaten. Many times, when it rained, I did not have enough pans to catch
all the leaks.
Making my way up the steps, it was One Step at A Time.
Opening the old squeaky door, I stepped inside. The only thing I saw
was three friendly mice. Being on metal crutches, I could not catch
them. So, they continued to eat on an old molded biscuit.
Looking around at the walls, I noticed cracks where the sun was shinning
through. No wonder the fan did not keep the house cool in the summer,
or the heater keep it warm in the winter.
The ice box, well, it’s empty except for a glass of cold water at bed
time.
Thinking about that letter in the mailbox, I said, "What the heck." I
had nothing but time on my hands and, maybe, little of that.
Walking back, outside, to the mailbox, One Step at a Time,
I took out the envelope and opened it, once again.
I turned, one more time, and looked at the old house, with tears in my
eyes. I’m not sure it will be standing much longer, and neither will I.
I still thought that this was a prank, but needed some exercise. (I
just hope I can make it back home.)
The directions read, "Go 1 block, turn left, go 2 blocks, turn right, go
1 mile to escalator." Escalator!!! I don’t need to go on a circus
ride.
Anyway, I started down the block, One Step at a Time.
Upon arriving at the corner, I leaned against a building to catch my
breath and to give my arms a rest from carrying this old body on these
crutches.
About 10 minutes went bye and I was on my way, again.
I turned left and made 2 blocks before needing to stop. The directions
said, "Go 1 mile." Whew!! That will be a chore, in itself.
Looking around for a taxi or a kid on a bicycle, I hoped to hitch a
ride. Funny, no one was around. Perhaps they were all at the circus.
So, I started off on my one mile journey, One Step at a Time.
What a walk this is going to be.
At the end of the mile was an escalator, but it was not moving. Well,
maybe I need to get on first? One step, then two.
It started moving up and not in a circle.
Letting go of my crutches, I grabbed the railing; tightly, I might add.
I looked over my shoulder, then grabbed a stronger hold on the rails ~
as tight as I could. I never been this high before.
As I kept going higher and higher, I felt my body changing. I felt
young and with a lot of energy.
When getting to the top, the escalator stopped.
I reached down to pick up my crutches, but did not need them anymore.
So, I jumped off. It was the first time in 105 years that I could walk
and jump!
As I started walking up a path, some big, huge, gates began to open.
It was then that I realized where I was and, if this is a dream, I did
not want to wake up. The flowers were real and so was I.
I started to enter through the gates, but stopped, turned around, and
looked below me and said, "I will wait for you at the Gate to The
Garden. Then, we will walk, together, inside. We will see our Mother,
Papa, Sister and Brother. What a gathering it will be, bye and bye!"
© 2003 by Robert H. Gilbert, Jr.
RGBLU-@aol.com
http://www.geocities.com/rgblueboy/StoryPoetryPage.html
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May you be blessed today
Bob Johnston
Sand Dollar Publisher
Minneapolis
|
|
 |
|
