Saturday, April 28, 2007

Monday Morning








With the standard the reflexes of a well conditioned driver I switch my foot automatically from the accelerator to the brakes and bring the car to a halt around six inches shy of the car in front of me. I yawn, still not fully awake yet, blink a few times, trying to clear the sleep out of my eyes. The rain was really starting to pour now.

I watch the dull glow of the red taillight from the car in front of me, blurred through the wet windshield and the haze of the falling rain, interrupted every alternate second by the rhythmic and urgent to and fro of the wiper blades. I hear the dull ticking of the indicator lights, and all of these merge with some random, incoherent thought in my sleepy head.

I yawn again. This time I take my hands off the steering wheel and rub my eyes. I turn my head to the side, lost in another of my disoriented thought. Droplets of water move around randomly on the fogged window, forming coalitions every now and then and roll off to the side and out of view. Beyond, at a distance I can vaguely see the trees, obscured in the mist, which have flanked the side of the road since forever. The rains somehow always bring out the nostalgia in me. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact as to how the rains affect the atmosphere pretty much the same way, no matter where you are. In spite of the climate control of the car circulating hot air around, I can still somehow feel the dampness around me. I give an involuntary shiver.

A sharp honk behind me jolts me out of my daydream stupor. Looking up I see the traffic in front of me has moved on. Reluctantly, I reverse the position of my right foot, nudge my car ahead and proceed to work. How I hate Mondays.