GUIDELINES 

THE LONELY ROAD
      by Sherryl Gardner   

 Apparently, I had grown a third ear by the looks on the faces of the people by whom I passed. "Who would voluntarily do such a thing?" 

       I had been walking for what seemed three days. The dry asphalt cracked in front of me in random travels, and I lost any sense of marking my progress. 

       I thought about my car. Parked, idle, yet safe and familiar. I missed its incubation. I thought about the food inside it. I thought about the frozen berries now melting against the wilting arugula. I thought about the wine bragging to the milk about its shelf life.

       I tried not to think about the sun glaring down on my head and through the gap between the bridge of my nose and my sunglasses, spotlighting the lenses so I saw the shadows of my eyelashes as they blinked against the sweat slipping down my forehead. The wind teased with "psyche-out" shifts of baiting refreshment.

       Apparently, I had grown a third ear by the looks on the faces of the people by whom I passed. "Who would voluntarily do such a thing?" their squinty eyes questioned with suspicion. Little nobility seemed attached to my actions. I doubted now any solicitations of thanks.

       My palms grew sore, my stomach growled, and my throat pleaded for the Italian water left to bubble in the trunk. The exhaust from the other cars choked and harassed me. A horn blared its contempt, and a fender threatened me with a speedy steely kiss.

       Repeatedly, I questioned my determination and the supposed moral standing with which I had originally embarked on this trip. I assumed the right thing was to be done. And so blindly, I committed myself.

       I dabbled in over-compensated pious self-righteousness to combat the errant foolishness creeping up around my collar. I gazed with self-congratulation down my stubby nose. But, my bad acting nauseated me quickly. 

       Roasting vapors clouded my vision, yet I shook my skull to confirm I had finally come upon my goal. As I drew closer with each step, exuberance grew in me like mercury rising on this hot day. I had done it. I had defied the flow against me and fought the current. I had persevered. I hoped I had spawned at least a little good impression from my example.

       With extra effort gained by my anticipated accomplishment, I gripped the handle with secure determination and made a wish to be noticed. I felt God's pat on the back for my sacrifice in the face of popular derision, and I guided myself in a purposeful straight line for a successful finish.

       With a metal-rattling "clunk-clank" I pushed the grocery shopping cart over the steel plate on the parking lot's pavement and my charge coasted securely into its railed holding bay. The completed mission spurred a philanthropic feeling that I had crossed the bridge between being part of the problem and being part of the solution.

       With a skip and a smirk, I headed back to my car in Section F/Row 3, cruising inches taller over all the other lazy bastards. 

© 2007 Sherryl Gardner 

Sherryl is married and lives in San Jose, California, where she is writing a novel and a screenplay - two of the hardest things she'll never quit. 

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