You look up through the pouring rain at a pickup's tail lights disappearing behind trees and a bend in the road. Your knees and the heels of your palms sting from your rough acquaintance with the black top moments ago. Your dry clothes already are becoming soaked. You curse under the noise of the wind and rain. "Lemming Poo!" (go ahead and say it) You catch a chill as you wipe the droplets from your wristwatch and check the time: 1am. Three hours until even the earliest commuter will be on the road. . . .
You look behind you. More trees. You look up. Skinny and bare, the white trees stand out against a charcoal sky. It's been raining for long enough that the trees are dripping as much as the clouds. The drops are fewer, but larger. No shelter here. "LEMMING POO!!!" You shake your fist at the sky as you howl your curse at the moon. (go ahead, do it) But you know deep down that you can only blame yourself.
You reach for your wallet. Gone. You shove your hands in your front pockets. Empty. You look up to see the trees at the bend in the road lighting up. A car is coming. But who is it? Do you run and hide or do you try to get their attention?
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I wait in pain, anger at the injustices of being hit, left to die. My mind goes back to another road, one that leads me home, Where people know with one far away glimpse that I am hurt, needing comfort. Where lights are on, smells of comfort food hit my stomach with life, not metal, family greeting me with open arms, not blinding lights.
Why do so many emotions swirl together, and can the redemptive ones rises above the others to result in my ability to offer myself to another car. This time in hope of peace and safety. Adrenaline pumps through my stiffening body and I rise to met this car with fear of risking rejection, more harm, in the hope of help to come home. "Lord send me help!"
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