Dead Tired

At 2:30 p.m. I clock in. At 1:30 a.m. I clock out. My ankles throb. My left knee needs replacing. My right knee is only sore. On the bus back to the employee parking lot I catch a glimpse on my reflection in the window. I am surprised at the youth in my face. It seems thin although I am a bit heavier than I want to be. Maybe those workouts are working. Maybe the pounds don’t matter. Maybe my body is just changing. Maybe it is now almost 2 a.m. and I am lying to myself. I turn away from the window as a lump of sadness lodges in my chest. How did I get here? What am I doing on this bus? This is not what my father planned for me. And I answer my own questions. I am being responsible. I am doing what I need to do for my family. It is better than nothing. It is only a few more months and then … what? The bus lets us off no where near where we are marked and I walk to my car and rifle though my bag for two Tylenol and my bottle of Poland Spring that I refilled with Aqaufina in order to distinguish it from all the other bottles in the Pantry. The Prius switches on like a modern appliance and the music my husband prepared for me for this late night drives springs to life too. Johnny Cash sings “I’ve Been Everywhere” and an immediate smile creeps on to my tired face. I wasn’t sure those muscles worked anymore! It is followed by Jeff Bridges singing a song from “Crazy Heart”, which segues into an entire album of Dave Edmunds and another of Vampire Weekend. It is hard to be unhappy with the music. It all feels so good. Soon I am bopping along, seeing myself on stage telling the audience “I knew the Bride when she used to rock and roll”, and how I went “Crawlin’ from the wreckage” after I hit a suicidal Bambi on the Saw Mill. Actually, I only saw one deer tonight and he was already dead at the side of the road. I did see one slow moving raccoon but had plenty of time to let him pass without incident. I am home by 3:20 a.m.. The lights are on but no one is awake. I tiptoe into the bedroom for a half of a sleeping pill and downstairs for a shot of Tequila that burns my throat but maybe that’s the medicinal benefit part.I sit on the couch writing to you and waiting for the meds to kick in and I can close my eyes without counting beer cans and liquor bottles. I am wired but tired. Tire-wired. Things to do when you’re Dead…on your feet.