Thoughts on The Valley, Work Crushes, Clear Tape

Every morning I drive through a valley to get to work. It's farm land, soccer fields, and where the majority of my hometown sits. Huge hot air balloons take off and land here, and people come to watch the spectacle of Ultimate Frisbee during a weekend tournament.

In the morning, I drive on a small back road to go down into the valley and across. The sun rises at my back, lighting my destination in golden rays. A light mist lingers mere feet over the farmer's crops and above the creek that cuts the valley in half. On the distant hill, more fog shrouds buildings, but is quickly dissipating from the sunrise.

I cross some railroad tracks that haven't seen a train in over fifteen years. Weeds grow between the ties, nearly hiding the existence of the iron beams and railroad spikes still firmly in place. Taking one last look at the valley, I won't see it for another eight hours, on my trek home with the sun once more at my back.