The Commuter

The Commuter

         Living on Long Island and commuting into Brooklyn, on the Long Island Rail Road every morning; can become tiresome to most, but Bob actually doesn’t mind.  During the winter months he leaves before light and returns in the dark. 

         The Tuesday forecast is for light snow showers in the afternoon.  So Tuesday morning Bob bundles up, grabs his laptop and jumps in the car.  It’s only four miles to the train station; a bitter wind sweeps out of the north, everyone is congregating in the small shelter or behind the closed ticket office.  The train pulls in on time and all the regular commuters rush in to grab their usual seats. 

         Bob putters with the laptop for fifteen minutes and starts to doze; shutting it off, he sleeps most of the trip.  By the time the train rolls into the Brooklyn station there is a very light snow falling.  He switches to the subway and exits right in the building where he works.  The curbside coffee vendor greets him with a smile and his coffee all prepared. 

         His day is generally easy, not many problems; but he’s beginning to worry.  At twelve o’clock there is an inch accumulation of this ‘light snow.’  At three o’clock the snowflakes are blotting out the view of the building next door and there are three inches of accumulation on the ground.  He thinks, ‘It’s probably only here in Brooklyn?’

         The Civil Service workers are being let out early, but the earliest available train for Bob is the four-twenty out of Atlantic Avenue, which delayed, do to track icing. 

         Finally, he is on his way; but because of track conditions the trip takes three and a half hours.  When the train pulls in at his home station there are eighteen inches of snow covering the cars and parking lot; ‘Hmm, light snow showers!’

         Not expecting the heavy snow, Bob did not wear boots.  It takes twenty minutes to clean off and dig out the car.  He travels at ten to fifteen miles per hour to his home through a blinding blizzard, plowing the car into the deep snow in front of the picket fence. 

         As he approaches the front door Carole is waiting, “You have to clear the driveway, I must go shopping in the morning!”  He looks around at the gigantic flakes falling all around him and thinks; ‘You’re not going anywhere tomorrow lady!’

         Bob goes inside and changes into dry socks and boots.  The blizzard is still raging and he can no longer see the tracks his car made into the snow.  In point of fact, he can barely recognize the outline of his own car.  So he clear the driveway, walkway and the back steps. 

         Ten PM, it’s still snowing and Bob’s exhausted, after a quick sandwich and coffee; he sets his alarm for five o’clock and falls right off to sleep.

* * *

         He opens his eyes to daylight, the digital alarm clock is blinking ’00:00’ and Carole is not in bed.  Bob sleeps in the buff; he swings his legs out from under the covers to a chilly room.  Throwing a robe on, he staggers into the bathroom, throws cold water on his face, then walks through the living room into the kitchen.  The TV is on but no picture, only static; Carole is at the stove in her nightgown and robe, making eggs.  “The power went out… The backup batteries on the computer started to beep and woke me up.  Don’t know when it came back.”

         He goes to the back door and sees nothing but white, it must be two and a half feet deep.  “When did it stop snowing?”

         She chuckles, “You mean the light flurries?  I don’t know?”

         With a sputter and a pop the picture comes on the TV, with a beautiful snow scene.  The announcer from local news channel says. ”It’s ten oh five, have you seen your car recently?  If you haven’t maybe it’s on of these snowballs in the this picture.”  He reports that the average snowfall over night was three feet with drifts of seven. 

         Bob goes to the front of the house and opens the door.  He discovers the snow has drifted up the steps and there’s a four foot drift leaning against the outer glass storm door.  Looking out beyond the picket fence there is s good size bump in the snow where his car is, or was?  The two cars in the drive way are the same way.  As he sits down to eat his eggs he calls in to work to find he can take a vacation day. 

         After breakfast Bob clears a trench to the front gate and finds the mail lady was there and did deliver mail.  That afternoon, with no place to go; Carole and Bob spend the day together, playing canasta, talking and they watch some old movies.  Later, after supper, they turn up the thermostat; play strip poker and go to bed with their winnings. 

         Later that night, Bob called in and left a message saying he would be out sick for the rest of the week.  Those were all marvelous days and evenings, but Monday he was back to work.

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Word Count = 870