Each day when I go to work, I walk into a door to the building that houses my locker room and a shop. Each day I walk up the sidewalk and reach into my bag and pull out my work wallet and swipe my access card. It's a plain brown metal door with a window and I have been doing this for 18 years. About 8:00pm on a beautiful Thursday evening, a young man of 31, took his friends motorcycle for a run, he ended up dead. Somehow he was speeding lost control and ran up on the curb and hit the pole and building and the motorcycle ended up curled into the door opening and he lay dead in the street. Senseless, just a waste of a life. His family has put a Memorial up with flowers and notes. I read them and it made me cry. I don't use that door anymore. What once was a routine has changed for me. I didn't know him, but he changed the way I do things. It isn't just a brown metal door anymore. It's the place where a young guy died....some mother is going to have a very sad Mothers Day. I walk around another way..
1 comment:
With tears in my eyes, for once I am speechless. I also can't help but think how I would feel in that mothers place. Even though some days I may complain about my kids, they are my life and I am very thankful for them. That doorway reminds us all to stop and smell the roses.
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