I
stood on my balcony early this morning, breathing in the crisp breeze rustling
the dead leaves off the ground. I watched as a tow truck pull up to the side of
the road. Someone had parked their black pick-up across someone’s driveway,
blocking the homeowner from driving out. I suppose if the guy had been in a
hurry he could’ve maneuvered his way out. Anyway, as I watched the tow guy jump
out of his truck, I got a flash back of this summer of my own car getting
towed. The memory made me laugh, even
though I was not impressed the morning I realized my car was gone. I heard
someone yell “Your truck’s getting towed!” The tow guy paused, waiting to see
if someone would come out. I looked up and down the street, expecting someone
to run out yelling and swearing. But no one came. The tow guy continued his
work. I lingered a little longer, watching the tow guy get back into the truck
and slowly drive away with the offending pick up in tow, before returning into
my apartment to make my oatmeal.
