Ms. Perez Goes to Washington Part 4

Home Again, Home Again

Nothing is scarier than driving through a snow squall on the New York State Thruway, even early in the winter season. The bus made it back to Syracuse a little after 3 am. Snow filtered earthward from a low cloud bank that reflected the city’s light. (Ugh. When am I headed back to Hawaii?) I had expected the snow.

Since daylight would break in a couple of hours, I decide to drive back home instead of getting a hotel room. One fellow patriot even offered to take me in for the night, but I was ready to go home. I was tired but drowsiness didn’t catch up to me until I was 18 miles short of the second rest stop on the Thruway.

I pulled into the nearly vacant parking lot surrounded by an armada of tractor trailers. My feet were so swollen that I could barely wear my shoes. I put on a pair of heavy socks, wrapped a fleece blanket around my legs and tilted the Jeep’s seat as far back as it would go. Within seconds I was gone. Twenty minutes later I woke from my catnap.

I managed to cram my feet into my shoes and stumble into the rest stop’s bathroom. From the only opened shop, Roy Rogers, I ordered a cup of coffee. It had stopped snowing, but the wind bit a hole in my psyche as I crossed the still vacant parking lot. A few sips of coffee and I turned the Jeep east. Somewhere soon, I would find the sun.

I had prayed for a safe trip for all the thousands who made it to Washington. Mine was until I walked up the front ramp to the house. The door was locked. In my retreat down the wet ramp and wearing those flat soled shoes I slipped. I didn’t try to fight the fall and stayed upright all the way down the ramp. I was about to think I had it made when I reached the pumpkin sitting at the bottom of the ramp. It was impossible to avoid. I smashed into the squash and topple over into the driveway scraping my knee. I rested. What was the sense of scrambling back to my feet?