A Morning Commute

My dad and I have about a thirty minute commute to work everyday. We pull out of the drive way in the early morning, right about that time when it's not quite dark and not quite light out yet, so your eyes play funny tricks on you. This has come to be an everyday routine for us. My dad drives... and I ride. My dad always eats his breakfast, a bagel and fruit, and the truck begins to smell of blueberry and banana.

We usually listen to the radio, turning to each other with smiles on our faces when the morning radio topics are really comic. But most days, we sit in silence, tired and commited to simply observing. I stare out my window into a world, that is becoming more and more visible to me with every minute. Despite the darkness, people are up and about, commuting to work, fighting the small town traffic, and stopping at the local gas stations for their morning fix of doughnut and coffee beans.

Yesterday, while my dad and I were on our regular commute, I noticed a flock of birds, picking up from a lake near the highway and taking off into the air. I remembered how cold it had become outside and how it had come so quickly too. To me, it seemed that mother nature had flipped the switch, demoting summer and pushing fall right into our laps. At the time, I was comfortably sitting inside my dad's truck, while those poor unprepared birds flew around outside. They probably had not received any warning of sudden change in temperature. Much like Pearl Harbor when the Japanese struck, these birds were ambushed by the cold. And while I could remember so many times as a young girl that I wished that I could be a bird so I could fly, at that moment, I did not envy the winged animal. I spoke in disgust.

"If I were a bird, I would have flown south already!"

My dad and I turned towards each other with smiles on our faces... despite the fact that the radio was only running a commercial.