Kicking open the door, he proclaims, ’ I’m back’ in a low whispering, humourous voice. The dirt and road dust falls talc like around the edges of his travel stained boots.
He stands in the doorway, surveying the scene, has it changed? Nope, has his missing been noticed? Nope. Futile, this place has no point in being, for it is a ‘chest’ a ‘trunk’ for storing, storing what? Useless bits of nothing.
Empty box, to fill, with useless bits of nothing. Sifting through, the wreckage of a life, that can stay, that can go, stay, stay, go, stay, stay, stay, go. The box of useless bits of nothing amounts to little more than nothing. He refills his saddle bags with provisions, looks over his shoulder, a last look, he surveys his usless bits of nothing. At least it’s tidy, in case, he never makes it back again.
Slaming the door shut, he closes his mind, saddles up, turns the key, reassured from the roar and black smoke. The little red lever, signals goodbye with a hiss……
Flicks on the cd player…..Rhett Atkins- Driving my life away
I know none of you drivers in the Truckies group need reminding of that song, but hopefully others may take a chance on listening to our lives…..it matters not where in the world we are, tis the same…..
Truck it right !!!