The Weary Traveler
by: Laura Scott
Illustrations by: Laura Scott
I overheard the driver talking over his radio telling someone he’d stopped off at the local farmers market before we left the city limits.
My heart sank inside of me after accepting the fact I shall never live in Independence, Kentucky again. Even the food didn’t have an aroma after we were on the highway. Oh no! I’ve gone and lost one of my senses…I can’t smell anything!
The highway sounded as if it were screaming at us, while he sped down the interstate. The hot asphalt meeting the rubber tires made any horror movie sound like rainbows and lollypops.
Why oh why couldn’t my hearing be the sense that up and disappeared? But, oh no the interstate was screaming and squealing, until the driver stopped for gas.
After he jumped out of the cab I wondered why he never once cleaned the passenger side windows, or the front windshield. There were bug guts covering the glass and dust from the highway so thick you would need a paint scraper to clean all of it off.
After a short time I fell asleep again listening to the screaming of the highway underneath the trucks tires. Tap…Buzz…Tap…I felt a tiny sensation tapping on my jacket, waking me from dreaming about back home in Kentucky.
To add frustration to the day the driver must have bought old bananas at the farmers market, because we had fruit flies buzzing around my jacket inside of this hot truck. I tried to make the best out of my situation just like the elder taught me to do. So, I pretended the marching band was conducting the screaming highway and the fruit flies were the chorus.
To be continued next Friday, so stay tuned for Part Five