Cue stream of consciousness:
So you walk out the door and head to your car, filled with the thoughts of the day and all the things you need to do. Your brain whirs, calculating possibilities, sifting through conversations and email, reviewing meetings and that endless list of things to do, do, do like a mentat. You don't notice the rain - because you're not really there. You fall into the routine, turn the key and flip in a CD that you really won't listen to. Your eyes fix on the horizon, and your thoughts drift, ebb, and even flatline. You're a busy man, with things to do. Things need to be done. There are emails to write, schedules to create, spreadsheets to update, and lists to publish. The data comes in a flood, and you merely react. You don't remember most of the drive home, because its part of the routine. You finally notice its raining. Traffic slows, but your thoughts are off again and you're not really paying attention. After awhile you return, and start to wonder at why the traffic has slowed. You see flashing lights, orange cones and burning flares. For a minute you become human again, and silently hope no one has been hurt. As you pass by the accident, you see the crushed metal, the broken glass, and a group of huddled people silently staring at a tarp covered pile. You start to wonder what is under the tarp - and then it hits you. It hits you hard. You snap back, sit up straight and break into a sweat. You are human again, and you are no longer thinking about work, but about your wife and daughter that wait for you at home. Dinner is waiting. You make it home, and stagger from the car up to the front door. You turn the key and open the door, and your daughter runs down the hallway screaming that you are home, and rushes you and wraps her arms around your legs. You smile, and try not to cry. You pick her up and hug her, and ask what she learned in school today. Soon its dinner time, and your listening to what they have to say. You're actually listening, and not just absently nodding. You are human again, and no longer a ghost. After a dinner, instead of heading into the office and logging in, you head to the playroom and build houses out of blocks. You have a meaningful conversation with your wife, and find out what's on her mind. Your human again, and realize that yes, things need to be done, there will aways be those things, but that your family comes first. Being human comes first. Tonight, there will be passion in your hugs and kisses, and you'll wonder what you have missed.

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Published: (2005-05-05 12:52:06.0)