That Old Road

orange sky, yellow sun setting with phone lines in the foreground
An old photo I took years ago on a point and shoot

The road we travel on
Is old indeed
Some parts are straight
Others meander for miles
Some parts are smooth and new
Others are rough with cracks

The road we travel on
Is old indeed
Some parts are desserts
Others are in hearts of forests
Some parts are traveled through summer
Others are traveled through winter

The road we travel on
Is old indeed
Some parts are full of stops
Others are empty lands
Some parts are distractions
Others are exits to new lands

The road we travel on
Is old indeed
We start out young
And grow old on this road
We may not always like the journey
But we all must travel on that old road

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Sun Ride

The orange sun sets on the western horizon
Gold and red light play across road and field
Painting white clouds purple, pink, and orange

Pair by pair, headlights burn to life
Minute by minute the roads become
Rivers of red and white lights

The steady hum of tires against concrete
Is drowned out by the throb of music
Or the rumble of powerful engines

A father heading home
Families ending vacations
And teens going on adventure

Each one on the road
Heading to their own place
At their own pace

Monday Stories: The Bridge

A car swings through a country road. The road is well lit by the moon. Tall trees stand in a line on either side of the road. The driver’s attention is fixed straight ahead. His mind wanders through over the mountain of debt. The mere thought causes him to put a hand up to his forehead.

“Okay.” The man whispers to himself, “There is the bridge. It’ll take me thirty minutes to get across then I’ll be home. Just in time for bed.”

The streetlamps stand like sentinels along the length of the bridge. The amber colored lights stretch far into the distance.

Without warning, there is a loud explosion.

The car begins to jerk and pull to the right. The man snarls as he fights to stay in control. He slams on the brakes. The car squeals as the vehicle come to a stop. The driver sits in the chair and tries to catch his breath. He finally came to a stop alongside the road, not far from the bridge.

The man steps out and walks to the front of the car. The tire is in ruin. Pieces of the tire are strewn along the side of the road.

The man looks at his phone. There is no phone signal.

The man growls and he begins to pull out his tools.

“Thanks God!” He screams at the sky, “On top of everything else! You throw a flat tire at me! Second one this week!”

The man places the tire next to the ruin one.

“All I need. I don’t have a job. I got bills to pay. And of course, nothing is opening up for me.” He growls as he pumps the car jack, “Not even the fast food joints are hiring!”

The man continues to grumble as he works to swap the tires.

“And you know what irks me!” He screams at the sky, “Everyone else I know has a full-time job and still enjoying life!”

He finishes switching the tires and puts the tools away. He looks at his watch. Only ten minutes elapsed since he started. He throws his hands up.

“Thanks God! Now I am going to be stuck dealing with the 11 o’clock  freight train!” He takes a deep breath, “And I won’t be home until midnight! Why are you doing this to me?”

He opens the door as a loud metal creak echoes through the night air. The man stops and looks around in confusion.

“Weird.”

He puts the car into drive again. He approaches the bridge. When he is only a few yards away, a load groan echoes through the night. The sound makes him stop again. The driver sits forward, unsure of what is happening. Then he notices the bridge.

It begins to sway back and forth. Each twist and turn send out more loud groans. The street lights rise and fall. Then the bridge folds in on itself. The lights go out in rapid succession. One last terrible groan sounds the death of the bridge.

The man sits in shock at the destruction.