$admin_info[html_footer] "; exit(); } ?> d>"; } return $calendar."\n\n"; } ?> The Pink Umbrella - Terry McDermott

Terry McDermott

August 31, 2007 - The Pink Umbrella

I was leaving for work on the graveyard shift, and the rain was pouring down hard. And my umbrella was in the locker at work. Knowing that I would have a ways to walk after parking my car, I decided to take an extra pair of clothes. There nothing more uncomfortable than working eight hours soaking wet.

As I went into the laundry room, my ex-wife's pink umbrella was hanging on a nail. It was one she received during her days of selling Mary Kay. And I guess Julia forgot it when she moved away. "Should I risk walking through the mill yard with a pink umbrella?" I asked myself. "Well its night and the rain is coming down. So maybe no one will notice."

When I got to work, no one was in the parking lot. The coast was clear. Walking to the front gate I passed by one good old boy sitting in his pickup truck. He was chewing tobacco and wearing camouflage. If you didn't know camouflage is unofficial color of the paper mill worker. The look on face gave me the impression that he was thinking insulting thoughts. But it didn't matter. I was dry.

To my surprise I did not see anyone else. I laid the pink umbrella beside my lunchbox on the worktable. Since the table was full of junk and paper dust, chances were slim nobody would notice it. I had made it to work without being ridiculed.

After work I returned home, took a shower, and went to bed. Then I realized what I had done. "I forgot that pink umbrella," Thinking to myself. "Now everyone is going to wonder who it belongs to. All well I just have to face the music."

The next day at work the pink umbrella was still lying on the table. No one had said a word, or even seemed to notice. At the end of the shift, I stuffed the pink umbrella inside my jacket, and departed without being harassed. My fear had been conquered.

Since that time I have given this pink umbrella a lot of thought. I was sure it would bring me insults, ridicule, and embarrassment. But none of these things came about. Instead it served its purpose. It kept me from getting wet.
Post A Comment!

<- Last Page :: Next Page ->

About Me

I mainly write structured non-rhyming poetry

«  August 2014  »
MonTueWedThuFriSatSun
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Links

Home
View my profile
Archives
Friends
Email Me

Friends

jojanoski
HouseMouse
potluckpassion
paisley
hfurness
, ">", $template); // OUTPUT WEBLOG echo $template; ?>