spine. Once my jacket had been zipped snugly to the top, I grabbed my things and flew down the stairs, headed straight for the front door.
Despite the chilly morning air goading a speedy recovery, I finally found my car keys hiding in the bottom of my junky purse. Those weren’t as easy to “track” as any critters. I gazed at the old two-story farmhouse my father had built with his own two-hands as I waited patiently for my old ’69 Charger to crank-up. It was actually my father’s when he was my age, and it looked it too. But, hey — it was still a car. Thankfully the DMV of West Virginia still considered it one as well, or I wouldn’t have any way to get around this small hick-town. I didn’t mean to trash my hometown, but in reality, that’s what it was. No sense in candy-coating it.
A wave of anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks as I started my drive down the mountain. I never particularly liked the stretch of Shiloh Ridge that twisted along my daily path. It didn’t matter, come dusk or dawn, a foreboding feeling always rode shotgun with me. I kept my eyes on the road, my head in the present, and my foot firmly depressed on the gas pedal. Possibly a little too hard from time to time. The secure confines of my car helped, but today I felt eerily vulnerable — almost naked — like I was zooming past that godawful patch of land in a convertible waving a sign that read, “I’m right here black cloud of death!” Ugh! I wasn’t a scaredy-cat by nature, but there was something about that mist that was straight-up evil. A fact I still believed today and burned from the depths of my soul. And for some unknown reason “that particular day”, it had its sinister sights set on five-year old little me. In my eyes, Dorothy had it easy. The only thing yellow about my road were some fading double-lines, but a wicked witch with a horde of flying monkeys would have been a much fairer storm to weather.
I came to a “screeching” stop at the bottom of the mountain because Mike Riverside and his shiny red Camaro cut over into my lane when he veered onto the uphill road! Stupid, arrogant, ASS! Once my tirade of horn-blowing and finger-saluting had played out, I found myself idly parked and staring at Highway 52 in a haze. My mind egged me to veer right and “go straight”, but my heart inevitably turned my head to the left for a curious gander down the road. The bustling sights and sounds of the Riverside Pocahontas Coalmine hailed my attention like a caution flag. The parking lot alone looked way more crowded than usual.
Maybe the extra crews are because of the impending meeting today? Ugh! Mr. Riverside just can’t shut down the mine! Over half the town works there. I didn’t want to think about what its closing would do to the area or how devastating it would be for all the miners’ families — especially mine . The sight was only fueling my restlessness, so as soon as all the speeding coal trucks had whizzed past, I pulled onto the road for my mundane morning commute.
The temperature had turned considerably colder, even for early November. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if we had an early winter this year. Just thinking about the first snowfall made me reach over to crank up the heat a bit. This was the time of year when West Virginia’s countryside was truly spectacular — my favorite time . Nothing beat the beautiful colors of the fall foliage cascading over the mountains with a blazing autumn sunset igniting the sky. I treasured each and every one of them. You could be in the most horrible mood, and it would always lend you a better outlook on everything. Nature’s way of putting things into perspective.
And I really could have used one of them to lull me into a state of tranquility…Right freakin’ now!
I found myself thinking along the way ( yet again) , how EVERYTHING around here always remained the same. I drove past
Despite the chilly morning air goading a speedy recovery, I finally found my car keys hiding in the bottom of my junky purse. Those weren’t as easy to “track” as any critters. I gazed at the old two-story farmhouse my father had built with his own two-hands as I waited patiently for my old ’69 Charger to crank-up. It was actually my father’s when he was my age, and it looked it too. But, hey — it was still a car. Thankfully the DMV of West Virginia still considered it one as well, or I wouldn’t have any way to get around this small hick-town. I didn’t mean to trash my hometown, but in reality, that’s what it was. No sense in candy-coating it.
A wave of anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks as I started my drive down the mountain. I never particularly liked the stretch of Shiloh Ridge that twisted along my daily path. It didn’t matter, come dusk or dawn, a foreboding feeling always rode shotgun with me. I kept my eyes on the road, my head in the present, and my foot firmly depressed on the gas pedal. Possibly a little too hard from time to time. The secure confines of my car helped, but today I felt eerily vulnerable — almost naked — like I was zooming past that godawful patch of land in a convertible waving a sign that read, “I’m right here black cloud of death!” Ugh! I wasn’t a scaredy-cat by nature, but there was something about that mist that was straight-up evil. A fact I still believed today and burned from the depths of my soul. And for some unknown reason “that particular day”, it had its sinister sights set on five-year old little me. In my eyes, Dorothy had it easy. The only thing yellow about my road were some fading double-lines, but a wicked witch with a horde of flying monkeys would have been a much fairer storm to weather.
I came to a “screeching” stop at the bottom of the mountain because Mike Riverside and his shiny red Camaro cut over into my lane when he veered onto the uphill road! Stupid, arrogant, ASS! Once my tirade of horn-blowing and finger-saluting had played out, I found myself idly parked and staring at Highway 52 in a haze. My mind egged me to veer right and “go straight”, but my heart inevitably turned my head to the left for a curious gander down the road. The bustling sights and sounds of the Riverside Pocahontas Coalmine hailed my attention like a caution flag. The parking lot alone looked way more crowded than usual.
Maybe the extra crews are because of the impending meeting today? Ugh! Mr. Riverside just can’t shut down the mine! Over half the town works there. I didn’t want to think about what its closing would do to the area or how devastating it would be for all the miners’ families — especially mine . The sight was only fueling my restlessness, so as soon as all the speeding coal trucks had whizzed past, I pulled onto the road for my mundane morning commute.
The temperature had turned considerably colder, even for early November. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if we had an early winter this year. Just thinking about the first snowfall made me reach over to crank up the heat a bit. This was the time of year when West Virginia’s countryside was truly spectacular — my favorite time . Nothing beat the beautiful colors of the fall foliage cascading over the mountains with a blazing autumn sunset igniting the sky. I treasured each and every one of them. You could be in the most horrible mood, and it would always lend you a better outlook on everything. Nature’s way of putting things into perspective.
And I really could have used one of them to lull me into a state of tranquility…Right freakin’ now!
I found myself thinking along the way ( yet again) , how EVERYTHING around here always remained the same. I drove past
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