This week is about exploring different images that can lead to stories. This photo I am sure brings about all kinds of emotions. I know I pulled out my camera and snapped the photo because I had lots of time to think about the story when it was happening. Take a bit and write the story that you see in this image.
The crawl isn’t the worst of it. It’s not even the heat. The black pavement is wriggling as the summer heat rises, but still, it is not the worst of it. The waiting isn’t even the worst of it. It’s the why. Why did we all have to run? Why did I miss it?
The night is coming in close and the heat is still pounding away. The horns no longer urging others to move along. It is just quiet now. Many of the cars have run out of gas. The occupants have abandoned them hoping to find another way out.
When I heard the trumpet sound in the east, I was afraid. A part of me knew I had made a mistake. I sat on the edge for so long. I had heard all the reasons from my family and friends, I was sure there would be enough time. I figured no decision was better than a yes or no. I was wrong.
I am sitting in this car, it’s about to sputter to a stop, the empty warning on my gas gauge started about fifteen minutes ago. I just don’t know what to do. I missed it. I called home my mom and dad aren’t answering. I know why. They left. They are gone. I am still hoping against hope I have time. I feel the heat and smell the fumes of the few of us remaining on the now gridlocked roads. There is no way we are ever moving these cars again. Why am I still sitting here?
I open the door and get out as a blast of remaining day’s heat pushes against my lungs. The cars are almost all empty now and people are walking toward what I don’t know. I decide to go back the way I had come. It was better there. I listen as the warning sirens are still screeching. The radio has been blasting the emergency message since this all began. Is this happening everywhere I wonder, has all the world gone mad?
I know what has happened but I still grip to my belief that I am in control of my life. That I am my own master. I want that to be true, but I know because I heard it, the sound earlier, it was a beckoning to those that love Him. I recognize it from many years ago when my parents talked about what a glorious day it would be. It’s not glorious for me.
Then I get a crazy thought. I want to have a glorious day. I feel the heat of my tears rolling down my face as I finally realize that I have made a terrible mistake. All those years, He called me, I refused to hear. I turned my back. I walked away, I knew what was best for me. Today, I am sure I do not. I feel a lump form in my stomach. It’s true. It’s all true.
I close my eye lean against my car and pray. I pray for the first time in a long time. I am not afraid after I pray. I feel peace. I have hope. I am not alone, I mean I am alone but not alone. A giggle rises in my chest. I look over and see this whole time, I have been in a safety corridor. He kept me safe. Even when I didn’t deserve to be kept safe. What a glorious day it will be.