The Name of Hope
The rushing wind in my face harshly wiped away the tears from my eyes. I moved into the next gear and turned the throttle. The faster I drove the less the betrayals hurt.
My wife was having an affair with my boss.
My boss had fired me after I gave 10 years of my life to the company.
My dog refused to recognize me anymore.
The dog was actually the stick that broke the proverbial camel’s back. So, I sold the house, bought the Harley, put the rest of the money in a bank account and left the town I had lived in since the day that I was born.
The next seven months were spent on the road, and the road had not been kind to me. My back hurt from long hours of driving, my face looked old and weather beaten in the rear-view mirror, and my hair was graying.
I was on the road again tonight, my 30th birthday.
Then, I saw the girl standing on the side of the road. A small dog sat by her side.
I stopped the bike.
“I’m going to the next town.” She said.
“Hop on then.”
She sat sideways on the bike and the dog expertly jumped in her lap. She put a hand on my shoulder to balance herself.
I told her my name and asked hers as I started the bike, through the noise of the engine she whispered in my ear, “I am Hope.”
[Nothingman writes at A Story A Day and Poetry.]