The Bench

　

         It's Friday, at last, and it was 101 today.  My day starts at 6:30 am and ends at 8:00 that night... Monday through Friday... week in, week out.  I travel the four corners of the compass in the course of my job covering an average of 160 miles a day.  My service area stretches from Victorville to the north, south to Temecula, west to Pomona and Yucca Valley at the East.  I over see 9 men, 3 jobs, 3 trucks.  Between my men, the office and tenants, I receive an average of 1,100 phone calls a month, day and night, around the clock non stop.  Silly things mostly, dripping faucets, leaking toilets, lights that suddenly stopped working, ceiling fans that won't go faster.  Sometimes it's more, much more but silly things by-in-large.  Things that a person can do on their own if they only tried.       Interestingly, those with the least ability, those that don't know which end of a screwdriver to hold on too are the ones that take EVERYTHING apart and create far more chaos than in the beginning.  I give them points for trying... little ones but points non-the-less.

      So as you might imagine Friday is good but always a late day;  someone always has an emergency that just can't wait until Monday.  When I finally do make it home the air has cooled and after a quick "I'm home" and my wife turns the phone off for a while, we make our way out to the garden.

      The timers go off and the mist of water cools the air.  We sit amongst the flowers on the bench I built across from my little red, green house and watch the birds fly in and out of the spray.   There's something about the straight lines formed by the rows of raised beds that I find gratifying.  Seeing all the flowers, the pumpkins, the watermelon, the squash all standing in a row does something pleasant for me.

     Tomorrow it starts again... I have to cut the lawn, handle trash, go to the bank, do groceries and all the usual chores associated with the weekend.

     So for now, we sit on that bench and talk as it slowly grows dark, the rhythmic pulse of the sprinklers mixing itself with my wife's voice as she tells me about her day and I think to myself... this, right here, right now, this is the happiest place on earth and I wish it could last forever.

 

 

Reviews

[Robbie~xoxo~]

The time after 8:00pm is yours! You have conveyed such a sweet and loving moment of happiness that it's all worth it....at the end of the day that's what truly matters. I love this! Lovely write!

[Tegon Maus]

Thank you Robbie !

[Robbie~xoxo~]

You're welcome. It was a pleasure to read. :)

[Wendy Seames Garner]

The clock stops at 8:00 pm and your real life starts - you paint a beautiful picture of you life, Tegon!

[Tegon Maus]

Thanks Wendy ! You are always very generous !

[Marie]

Work never seem to stop, does it? It's good that there's a little space of peace in the day. Nicely written.