“Morning mam. What can
we do for you?”
The elderly woman waited
until he got within good hearing and speaking distance before replying. “I’ve
come to see if I can git my tractor fixed.”
“Is that it on the
trailer?”
“It is”
“Mind if I have a look
at it?”
“What do you reckon I
brought it here for?”
He gave her a
halfhearted smile, when he was sure she couldn’t see his face, he rolled his eyes.
Once on the trailer he began a quick triage.
“Jeeezus! I mean wow,
this tractor’s been well loved,” Remembering he was with a customer.
“The tow hitch has been
completely ripped off. Integrity is shot. Looks like the four wheel drive shaft
was cracked in two. You’ll be lucky if you don’t need all brand-new seals and
gears. The wiring looks completely fried. I’m not getting a connection up to the
ignition switch. Mind if I ask you what happened?”
“It was my late husbands,
Chance. It was Chance’s tractor.”
She began explaining in
the smallest of detail to the mechanic the circumstances surrounding the
damage, but in her mind she remembered every aspect like it was yesterday. The
result of numerous shared conversations born from a lifetime spent together.
Promises
The
molted ash tree surrounded by dry earth had stood tall in the epicenter of
their neglected front yard for as long as anyone could remember. Its roots
stubbornly clung to the arid soil. A solitary orange tractor rested forgotten
underneath its boughs. Jagged branches shot out like irate bolts of lightning
flailing in all directions. The old trees bulk cast an uneven shadow over the
house; a shade that provided little relief from the persistent heat. A chainsaw
whirred in the distance. Its insistent whine invaded the open windows of the
amber colored residence. Inside Chance Travers covered his head with a pillow muffling
the noise from without but containing the nauseating buzz within.
Tossing the pillow aside
Chance bolted downstairs stubbing his toe on an empty beer bottle as he slid
out of bed. He muttered obscenities about their neighbors and ethnic background
as he went. Entering the living room where his daughter Emily was, he barely
noticed her. He was too preoccupied to see how she clutched her Barbie doll
tightly to her chest, or how her small distraught face flickered in unison with
the images on the screen. Her body tense bracing for a storm.
“Sarah! For Christ’s
sake you don’t hear that?”
“Hear what Chance? You
snoring”, his wife said stepping out of the kitchen. “It’s eleven thirty in the
morning!”
“Don’t start. Just
don’t. Ok. I’m not in the mood.”
“Sure Chance. Then when?
When would be a good time? After you get rid of that damned tree in our yard.
You’ve only been promising that since we moved in.”
“You know I’m looking
for a job. I’m not just going to take any ole thing that comes my way. You want
me to be a garbage man or gas station attendant for the rest of my life?”
The doorbell rang before
Sarah could respond.
“I’ll get it”, Emily
shouted jumping from the couch and running to the door. Within moments she
returned. “It’s Huan. Can I go out and play?”
“Who? The China girl
next door?” Chance asked.
Emily nodded her head.
“Oh hell no punkin. Your
Mom hasn’t been letting you play with her, Has she?”
Another nod.
“She has a name you
know,”
Turning to his wife, “I
know her goddamn name Sarah! Besides that’s not the point. You know how I feel
about Deshi and his weird brother. And you’re letting Emily play with his
daughter? Jesus Christ!”
“How is he weird Chance?
Because he works his ass off and visits his family when he gets some spare
time.”
“You know exactly what
I’m talking about. The guys a little fruity He gave his wife a hard stare
before continuing, “I’m going to take care of this. When I get back you and I
are going to have some words.”
Chance
opened the door just a crack, and said, “Emily can’t play right now,” he let his words out
slowly and deliberately making sure Huan understood him by adopting an accent
he felt would sound more natural to her. “She has some things to do
around the house. When she’s ready to play she’ll let you know. OK?”
Huans
small face bristled at the unexpected rejection and shifted her gaze downward.
“Ok Mr. travers,” is all she replied.
Shutting
the door, he rushed back into the kitchen.
“Sarah! I told you I don’t want us having
anything to do with the chin…”
Before he could finish
his sentence, a coffee cup came flying out at him and smashed against the wall,
narrowly missing him by inches.
“What is wrong with
you?”
Emily ran to her room, taking
shelter from the sudden outburst.
Anger and disbelief
registered on Sarah’s face. Chance stared at her. Underneath the anger he could
see her eyes becoming wet with moisture. His gaze followed her form. From head
to torso, she stood slightly hunched over as if someone had dealt her a great
blow. His eyes instinctively followed her outstretched arm. Her index finger was
resting on the answering machine’s playback button, she slowly depressed it.
“Hi Chance. This is
Susan. I had such a great time the other day. I just wanted to let you know how
much it meant to me. I know I said I was going to wait for you to call me, but
I just couldn’t wait any longer. You know how I get when I haven’t seen you in a
while. So call me back. I’ll make it worth your while. You know I will.”
“Sarah! Look there’s a
good explanation… ”
“Not a word. Don’t say a
word. Emily and I are going to my mothers. We’ll be back Monday morning to get
the rest of our stuff.”
Chance watched her go
upstairs. In the sudden quiet he could hear dressers opening, closing and the
associated dull thuds as the items were assembled into suitcases. He overheard
his wife telling Emily that they were going to see Grandma for a while and that
she needed to get some stuff together. Emily eager for an adventure happily
obliged. He heard Emily ask about her daddy. Sarah told her that he had to stay
home and take care of the house. His daughters only reply was, “oh ok.”
He watched from the
living room window, the barren branches of the old ash tree partially obscuring
his view, as Sarah and Emily loaded their belongings and threw them into the
car. He opened a bottle of whiskey while watching them get into the car, and
back out of the driveway. He drank deeply from the bottle as they slipped out
into the street and were gone. He stared out the window, at the bleak branches,
and languished in the silence.
The sun was already low
on the horizon by the time Chance nearly finished his bottle. The soft golden rays
of the waning day shimmered through the open windows. The curtains billowed
erratically as gusts of wind defiantly protested against the decaying light.
Chance stared at the bottle of Jack. The black and white label resembled a
skull and cross bones, especially in his current state of inebriation.
He sat upright on the couch and with a zombie
like motion grabbed the bottle emptying it in a single gulp. He lurched to the
living room window and stared through it. He was half expecting to see her car
in the driveway and at any moment hear Sarah cooking dinner. Emily impatiently
asking if she could watch Cinderella for the umpteenth thousandth time. The
only sound he heard was the scratching of branches against the silent house, like
fingernails against a chalkboard. Its pointy branches seemed to mock him, and
delight in every indignant scrape.
When he and Sarah first considered buying
the home her only reservation had been the front yard. She felt the barren lawn and the
dying tree wouldn’t be a safe place to raise children. He reassured her that if that was her only objection,
he could change that. Whatever she didn’t like he would change. These were just
superficial cosmetic blemishes and shouldn’t hold them back on their future
together. She believed him. She believed in all of his promises.
He stared at the empty tree and remembered his assurances to her, all of his empty guarantees. His breathing became heavier, his grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, as if he could choke the lies form it. When his grip reached its physical limit he threw the bottle against the wall shattering it on impact. Staggering through the door he had a singular focus: The tree was coming down. He was going to correct a wrong and get his family back.
Like many things at the
Travers household the tractor appeared to be in a state of distress. Its orange
paint was marred by rust. The black and white safety decals were torn and
peeling negating their intended purpose. The tires left partially inflated strained
under the weight. Moss had invaded and flourished within the cracked seat
cushion. Like Chance the integrity of the vehicle was entirely in question.
Chance plopped onto the
seat. Fishing his keys from his pants pocket, he fumbled through each key until
he found the one that would fit the ignition. He turned the key. The engine
cranked and puffed plumes of white smoke but failed to start. Chance turned the
key to the engine preheat position. When he was convinced the engine was
sufficiently warmed he again attempted to start the tractor. The small three-cylinder
engine turned several times before roaring to life.
He grabbed the tow chain
resting behind the seat and attached one end to the tree, and the other to the
tow hitch on the back of the tractor. Climbing back into the seat he shifted
into gear and let out the clutch. The tractor lurched forward, and the chain in
tow straightened and tensed. The wheels of the tractor spun around in the dry
earth but failed to gain traction. Chance increased the throttle, and the small
engine whined against the strain. The tree however, stood steadfast in the
ground. The tractor, tree, and operator engaged in a deranged tug of war.
Seeing the futility in
continuing the struggle any longer Chance let off the throttle and put the
tractor in reverse. He backed right up to the trunk of the tree. If he couldn’t
pull it down he was going to jerk it down. With the clutch pushed in he
selected the highest gear. He slowly and carefully let out the clutch, the
tractor shot forward but didn’t stall. He quickly accelerated and before he
knew it the chain stretched and tightened as it was extended to its full
length. The tree staggered but held firm. The force applied to chain had to go
somewhere, and the rusted frame surrounding the hitch suddenly gave loose. The
hook shot up high into the air. The sudden shock to the engine stalled it on
impact. The airborne hook came down and landed on Chance’s head, knocking him
to the ground.
Staggering to his feet he
carefully felt his head where the hitch had struck him. Between the stars
swimming in front of his vision he could see that he was bleeding. He made his
way back to the house where he could nurse his wounds.
He packed a washcloth in
ice and applied it to his head. He carefully sat down at their kitchen table.
The alcohol was wearing off and the adrenaline from his fight with the tree was
subsiding. There alone in the kitchen his thoughts turned to Sarah and Emily. With
pen and paper in hand he attempted to explain himself through a solitary
letter.
Sarah,
I’m
not sure where to start. I know you’re angry and upset with me. You have every
right to be. I’d understand if you never forgave me. But trust me when I say
this, there are many things that even I don’t like about myself. And it’s for
that reason that I want you to understand, it was never about you or us but me.
When I was with someone else I didn’t have to face who I really was. I could be
anyone I wanted because it didn’t matter. They’d never get to know who I really
am. But the truth is I was scared. Afraid that what I am now is all I’ll ever
be. But I’m done hiding now, and anything you want to know I’ll tell you openly
and honestly. Whatever may come between us I’m ready to face it.
You
know, when something didn’t go my way I used to ask why me. I’m beginning to
realize maybe I should be thinking why not me. Maybe it’s the bumps and bruises
we accumulate in life that alert us to a problem that we never knew existed.
Allowing us to identify the broken parts and replace them with something
better. I’m pretty banged up right now, but I know where it hurts and I can
heal. But most of all Sarah I won’t be afraid to show you the bandages.
Love,
Chance
P.S.
Emily didn’t eat all of the chocolate Pop Tarts last weekend, the ones with the
sprinkles on them, she had some help.
Getting Connected
Chance slowly stooped
over to pick up the outstretched chain and broken towing hitch. His head throbbed
in the early morning light, and the persistent whine of Deshi’s chainsaw wasn’t
helping the matter either. He stared at the tree, noting how its serrated
branches looked disjointed from its trunk. The trees boughs appeared like
shards of electrical current flowing in all directions but without a path to
direct their energy. His gaze slowly shifted from the tree to his damaged
tractor. His stomach churned as he sat down on the moss-covered seat. He braced
his hands on the steering wheel and fought against the rising tide of sickness.
Taking deep breaths, he turned the key, nothing happened.
He repeated this
procedure several more times before concluding that he wasn’t getting power up
to the ignition switch. Hopping off the tractor and opening the hood, Chance began
looking for the problem.
He was so preoccupied in
finding the trouble he failed to notice that the chainsaw was no longer
piercing the quiet of the morning. When he looked up he noticed two sets of
eyes staring at him. Deshi and his younger brother Bohai were looking at him
quizzically with painted smiles on their faces. Deshi wearing a plaid shirt,
blue jeans and work boots. His brother sported a Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts
and sandals. He was Sipping through a straw containing a lime-colored liquid
with an orange rind daintily ordaining the rim of the glass. He spoke quickly
in Mandarin to his brother.
“Hi ya Chance,” Deshi
spoke, “We couldn’t help but hear all the racket last night and we were
wondering if everything was all right?”
Chance putting away his
notions for the moment answered slowly, taken aback by their concern.
“Yeah, everything’s ok I
was just trying to get rid of this old tree.”
Again, his brother spoke
in Mandarin.
Deshi translated, “With
this tractor?”
“Yeah,” Chance replied.
Both Deshi and Bohai
looked at each other and laughed. Bohai spoke and Deshi nodded.
“He says that an ash
tree is the symbol of change. But he thinks maybe the ash tree isn’t resisting
you, but maybe you are resisting the tree.”
Chance stared blankly at
Bohai his mouth opening slightly attempting to find the words to respond.
“Deshi saw his confusion
and said, “He thinks you’re doing it the wrong way. Mind if we help?”
Salvaging what was left
of his pride, “Maybe you can just give me a few pointers so I know what I’m
doing wrong.”
Deshi nodded, “We’ll get
some tools and see what we can do.”
When they returned
Chance noticed that Deshi carried in his right hand a yellow chainsaw and wore goggles
around his eyes. His brother now wearing white coveralls, carried an axe in his
right hand. Bohai held the axe handle straight out in front of him so the head
of the axe was pointing to the ground. He began backing up until he excitedly
signaled to his brother. Deshi came over and marked the spot where Bohai was
standing.
“This is where the tree
will fall,” he explained to Chance but first we’ll have to trim it back.
Chance watched in
fascination as Deshi and his brother negotiated the tree. Starting from the top
and working their way down, each cut was meticulously planned and surgically
executed. The whine of the chainsaw varied in pitch as the teeth of the blade
bit deep into the wood separating limb from trunk. Chance delighted in every
roar, sputter, and crack as he watched the angry jagged edges fall to the
ground. Chance helped out where he could, but mostly just tried to stay out of
their way. He noticed how they took their time, and pride was taken in every
task. Even more remarkable is that they were doing all this for a man they
barely knew, just because he was a neighbor. Their neighbor. Chance felt tinges
of embarrassment for some of the things he said, and hoped like hell that some
of his rants had gone unheard.
The three of them worked
this way together until late in the afternoon. The once dominant feature in the
front yard reduced to just a stump protruding from the ground. The rest of it
lay in pieces at its base.
“Deshi, I don’t know
what to say,” Staring at the ground as he spoke. “I just want you to know that
you and your family are welcome over anytime.”
“Me and Sarah are having
some troubles right now,” he continued, eyes swelling with tears as he looked
at the reduced tree laying on the ground. “So I can’t tell you how much this
means to me.”
He looked up and saw
Bohai smiling at him with a sympathetic grin and Deshi looking at him intently.
“Well I hope everything
works out, and I’m glad we could be of some help.”
Nodding his head Chance hopped
onto his tractor. The discarded fragments of the once overbearing tree needed
to be removed and the stump still had to be uprooted. He turned the key
attempting to start the tractor. Forgetting for the moment the electrical
problem plaguing the equipment.
Bohai noticing the
problem sprang into action. Within moments he had an answer. Removing a bad
fuse from the fuse block, he spoke quickly to Deshi.
“He says you blew a
fuse, probably from an intermittent short in the main power wire. He thinks if you
replace the fuse you’ll probably get it to run for a little while.”
Chance looked at his
watch. “None of the auto parts stores will be open this late on a Sunday.”
Deshi explained the
circumstances to Bohai. Bohai nodded and quickly produced a paper clip from the
pocket of his coveralls. He unfolded it and bent it into a “U” shape and
inserted it where the blown fuse had been. Bohai motioned for chance to turn
the key.
Chance turned the key to
the accessory position. To his amazement the dash panel lit up, the tractor
could now be started. The paper clip supplied the connection Chance so
desperately needed. He looked at Deshi in bewilderment.
Deshi shrugged his
shoulders, “He used to work on construction equipment before he started working
at the local plant farm.”
Chance started up his
tractor and he watched the two of them leave. Bohai silently setting his axe
down next to the stump before disappearing with his brother. Chance felt as though
connections were made in more ways than one.
Four Wheel Drive
Collecting and loading the remnants of the tree proved to be more difficult than he first thought. The smaller branches and pieces of dead wood had to be picked up by hand and hauled to a corner in the front yard. The constant bending, scooping and hauling left him sore and short of breath. The larger pieces that couldn’t be moved by hand had to be towed.
Placing his towing chain
in front of the larger portions, he rolled each one onto its links. Once he was
sure the log was centered, he would tie it off. The other end of tow line he
would secure to the frame of his tractor. Towing each cumbersome fragment to
the ever-growing wood pile.
The moon blazed a trail
across the night sky, as Chance toiled underneath the soft light. The wound on
his head, sustained from the night before, reached a new level of protest as he
rolled the final piece of wood to the pile. Swinging the tractor around Chance
proceeded to the stump.
The once tall and
menacing tree now stood a mere four feet tall, but to Chance standing alone in
his front yard it seemed as high and unyielding as Everest. He wrapped the
towing chain around the enormous trunk, hooking the other end of the chain
around the frame of his tractor.
He mounted the seat and
slammed the accelerator forward. The small engine whined and sputtered in
protest, but soon caught its stride and evened out. Letting out the clutch the
vehicle rolled forward. The chain in tow behind him stretched and then tightened.
The stump rocked forward as the force of the tractor made its presence known.
As before however, the momentum gained was soon lost and the rear tires spun in
the soft ground. The tractor and the stump caught in a stalemate.
“You can’t have my
family. Not my family,” Chance said to himself.
He found the four-wheel
drive selector lever off to his left foot and checked to make sure it was
engaged. To his delight he found it wasn’t. He had one more shot. Without
thinking he slid the selector forward. In his excitement he forgot to press in
the clutch, and the selector lever slammed the four-wheel drive gear into the
spinning drive shaft. The gears growled as they ground against each other
before meshing. The sudden torque on the smaller four-wheel drive shaft sent it
ripping and tearing through the coupler holding it into the front axle. The
shaft suddenly free began knocking against the oil pan. He shut the tractor
down and inspected the damage.
Underneath the tractor
he could see that the shaft had split in two where it mated to the front
differential. Using the tractors four-wheel drive was out of the question.
Discouraged Chance sat
down with his back against the stump and rested his head on his knees. He
slammed his fists into the ground in fit of rage. On the third punch a sharp
pain shot through his left hand. He looked at his appendage and saw that he had
a small cut underneath his little finger. He looked around to see what had inflicted
the superficial wound, it was Bohai’s axe. He picked it up and assessed the
stump. He took a couple of swings with the axe and aimed at the base of the
tree. Splinters of wood radiated from the stump where Bohais axe inflicted
egregious wounds into the flesh of the tree. Seeing glimmers of hope, he
quickened his pace.
He worked through the
remaining hours of the night, hacking at the roots that secured it to the ground.
He labored for the peace and security that his family gave him and wondered why
he hadn’t sooner. He realized in the waning hours of the night, eyes filled
with sweat, his hands bleeding form the open blisters that it didn’t really
matter what he did for a living, as long as it provided for his family. He
thought of Deshi and Bohai, how they took pride in the most menial of tasks.
There alone dealing blow after blow to the stubborn stems he reasoned that a
man is not defined by what he does, but by how he does it.
The sun was above the eastern horizon when
Chance inspected the stump. He saw that all around its circumference a deep
depression had formed where his axe had cut deep into its veins. Chance checked
the chain and ensured it was to still snuggly fastened around the old tree. He
turned the key and fired up the tractor. The smell of burning plastic assailed
his nostrils as the engine came to life.
His left foot slowly
came off the clutch, right foot on the gas. The chain tightened, and the stump
bent forward. Precariously teetering within the depression threatening to
topple. Victory seemed eminent when again the tractors rear wheels spun benignly
in the soft ground.
Without hesitating he
shifted into reverse and the let the chain go slack. Smoke began to rise from
the tractor’s engine compartment. With the clutch in, and the engine revving he
reversed the tractors direction. The engine whined in protest, and the transmission
knocked under the stress. Quickly accelerating he watched chain go taunt. His
chest slammed against the steering wheel as the tractor’s momentum was overcome
by the resistance of the stump. The old ash tree bent steeply forward. The
front end of the tractor bounced as it struggled to retain its ground. Roots
tore apart like Velcro as the old tree continued to stagger forward. The front
end of the tractor shook violently as its max revolutions hit the dreaded red
line.
The stump lay horizontal
and clung to the ground by a few short threads of vegetation. Smoke poured
through the engine compartment, as the front end of the tractor bucked wildly.
Chance stood on the floorboards and clung to the steering wheel to keep from
being thrown. His screams of determination matched the pitch of the engine
while his muscles tightened and strained from the exertion.
The tractor lurched
forward fractions of an inch at a time. A final tear and a plume of dirt shot
out of the ground where the tree used to stand. Chance was finally free. Smoke
billowed from the engine as Chance towed the stump to the wood pile. Once there
he shut the tractor down and opened the hood.
The faulty wiring had
enough. The amperage had overwhelmed its resistance and caught fire, burning
the wires within the bundle. The wiring harness was destroyed.
A New Leaf
Chance walked over to
the crater where the old stump had stood just moments ago. He began filling in
the large hole when he saw Bohai, Deshi, and Huan, coming towards him. Each of
them held saplings in their arms.
Bohai looked approvingly
at the large wood pile in the corner and at the large hole where the tree had
stood. His eyes widened when he noticed Chance for the first time since the afternoon
before.
His brown hair lay
disheveled and hung in clumps over his forehead. His high cheek bones and firm
jaw were streaked with dirt and sweat. His blue eyes were surrounded by dark
circles so that the whites of his eyes appeared to glow. His jeans and plaid
shirt were likewise stained and ringed with sweat.
Huan spoke, “Bohai
wanted you to have these Mr. Travers. They’re birch trees they mean new
beginnings or something like that.”
Chance just smiled and
nodded his head.
Together, under Bohai’s
direction, they began to plant the saplings. When it came time to plant the
third and final young birch tree Chance stopped them and explained that Sarah
would have to plant this one.
Chance stooped down so
that he was eye level with Huan.
“Huan, I’m sorry if I
ever made you feel unwelcome,” he didn’t use a pretentious accent this time
while speaking to her. “I’m extremely happy that you and Emily are friends and
any time you want to come over play with her you can. You know that right.”
Huan just smiled and
said “alright Mr. Travers.”
Before chance could say
another word Sarah and Emily turned into the driveway.
Chance watched as Sarah slowly
slipped from the car. The driver’s side door opened in a deliberate and
cautious manner, partially obscuring his view. His heart thudded in his chest,
as he watched her left foot touch the hard pavement of their driveway followed
by her right. His stomach felt warm and its heat radiated outward as she stood
up, and peered over the car door her brown hair wafting in the morning breeze.
Her green eyes squinted under furrowed brows. Her lips pursed as if to speak,
but instead froze. Her eyes attempting to comprehend the scene.
Emily bounded from the
passenger side door and ran straight for Chance, screaming, “Daddy, Daddy, look
what Grandma bought me”
Without hesitation he
scooped his daughter up into his arms. Bohai, Deshi, and Huan began to leave
waving silently to Sarah as they exited the Travers property.
Chance breathed in
deeply and relished the scent of his daughter’s hair. His fatigued and stained arms
held her small and delicate body tight. His eyes shut reflexively trying to
imprint the moment so he could hold onto it, and her forever.
She pushed her head off
his shoulder and held her doll within inches from his face and exclaimed, “It’s
a baby grows up doll, but I just call her Krissy. Isn’t she pretty?”
“She sure is punkin-Emily.
She sure is Emily.”
“Emily,” Sarah called,
“go inside and I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Ok Mom,” Emily yelled
back. Before clambering down she hugged her dad one more time and whispered in
his ear, “It’s ok if you call me punkin. I won’t tell Mommy.” She leapt from
his arms and ran into the house. He fought back the emotion welling up in him
as he watched her disappear.
Sarah shut the car door
and closed the distance between her and Chance, but only enough to carry on a
conversation without shouting.
“I moved some things
around while you were gone,” he said through a strained grin.
She let the heavy
atmosphere settle thickly between them without saying a word.
“I figured it was time
for a change, and time to keep some old promises too.”
The one in front,”
Chance said pointing to the small birch trees, “is Emily’s the other one behind
it is yours. Mine is over there,” he said pointing to the unplanted sapling directly
across from Sarah’s.
“So what now Chance? I
plant the tree and we all live happily ever after? Like some twisted up Disney
movie?”
“Sarah I’ve changed.”
No Chance, our yard
changed. You’re still the same.”
She turned and walked
into the house. The elation Chance had felt just moments ago was replaced with
sadness and resignation. He began walking back into the house to watch them
pack and say goodbye when Sarah once again emerged for the house holding the
letter Chance had written the night before.
She reached down and
dropped the sapling birch tree into the ground. Together Chance and Sarah
planted the final tree.
Removed and Replaced
Cars sped up and down on
busy streets, and people walked casually along sidewalks engaged in light
hearted conversations. Birds streaked through the blue sky, their dark wings
drifting in the warm air. The aluminum siding on the tractor repair shop
glistened in the afternoon sunlight as shop personnel positioned equipment for
repairs.
Sarah, Emily and her two
young children waited anxiously as the big bay door rolled upward and the
mechanic drove her tractor out of the shop. It had been several weeks since she
dropped it off and she was eager to see the results. The sky reflected
brilliantly off its bright orange paint as it rolled out of the garage. The
mechanic drove the vehicle towards them and parked it. Sarah looked over the
tractor. The towing hitch was securely welded and reinforced with hardened
steel its integrity was intact. The drive shaft was refitted with one carrying
a higher tensile strength, and it was ready to perform any laborious task set
before it. The once burned and fried wiring harness was repaired, and
flawlessly sent electrical signals to the various components within its
network. Each module uniquely different, and serving different functions, but together
they were connected and worked as one.
Sarah seeing the vehicle
made better for the knocks it had received openly wept.
Emily quickly placed her
arm around her mother’s shoulders and pulled her in tight. “Dad would have
loved it, seeing it this way.”
Together they mourned
and remembered the imperfect man who remained that way for the rest of his
life. Just a man, with all the character defects and flaws that come with being
human. The difference was he learned to identify his discrepancies and for the
remainder of his days he strove to replace them with something better, one
broken piece at a time.
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