Later in the Day

It had been an odd day, getting in after two in the morning from a reading in the city. We’d shared the driving this time which turned out to be a luxury rather than the tense and nauseating experience that I expected. It’s not that I didn’t trust her at the wheel, it’s the remnants of a life altering amusement park ride as a child, one which changed me chemically in a way that prevented me from ever being amused in that way again and created a situation that would make it nearly impossible for me to be in the passenger seat of a car later in life. At least if I was at the wheel I could anticipate the movement of the vehicle, easing the effects of the rocking and swaying.
Sunday is usually the day for my long run but today was not meant to be. I was up at six anyway, the light pouring in through the far from opaque blinds, managing to look away until seven before giving up not only to the flames of the sun but to those of unwritten chapters that were suddenly demanding attention, the ones that had been missing for months but now were flooding my thoughts and my notebook and the screen. The manuscript that had gone awry was finally in focus and waiting to be put into print, I had no choice but to oblige. The run would have to wait, and anyway, I doubted I had the energy.
The words came at a furious and frustrating pace with my feeble typing ability far from able to keep up, but I persevered, going for hours at the keyboard and then off to the diner where my notebook took over, more words that would have to be transcribed later in the day, tomorrow would be too late, this had to happen now. Then on to the office where I knew I had some work that had to be done but went onto web sites instead, looking for others to connect with. I found a couple and sent notes, also seeking out other group sites where I could promote my own work. I managed to make it appear as though I made some progress for the business and then went back to writing, half an hour at the café and then home, back to the keyboard.
Now I was crashing, dinner had to happen by four so I through a couple of pans on the stove and went after it. By five thirty I was out, napping on the mattress that once inhabited the fold out but became a much better prospect directly on the floor. At seven the laptop beckoned, promising to bring some sort of completion.
I became restless and turned to the clock near the television on the old, oak dresser, eight eleven; the day was still as bright as it had been at seven, the first time I’d dragged myself off of the floor. Being only the second or third day of summer, there was probably a solid forty five minutes of daylight left. If I hustled, I could get my bag out of the car, change, and make a dash to the ranch and back before the road and the darkness became too dangerous, three miles and my day would be complete.
The weather was perfect, clear and maybe seventy, with the sun low and a slight breeze.
I didn’t hesitate, moving quickly past the flower farm, maybe a little too fast I thought, but I was only going three, feeling that I’d started at this pace for the last 10K, I wasn’t concerned, it’s all about feeling what I’m capable of on any given day, letting my body dictate, and at this moment I needed to move.
The ranch was even closer this time, being the midpoint, and the bison were out on the upper tier. I crossed at the end of the field and headed back with the orange glow of the sun over my left shoulder, now too low in the sky to be visible, casting the distant mountains and what is left of a failed marriage and an attempt at family into a silhouette of hazy blue.
A small dog barked and the remains of birds once again littered the narrow shoulder as I made my way back, the darkness now becoming increasingly evident in the shade of the maples along the roadside. Cars and trucks passed with their headlights glowing brightly. I’d never run in the evening, always exhausted after a day in the trenches, making it a morning priority and if I faded at work, so be it, I’d done what was important, so this was new, and a fitting end to a day devoted exclusively to art, and to the pursuit of what really matters.