Visions in a Morning Sunstorm


Written for Flash! Friday vol. 3-9. The prompt is to include a fleeting moment, along with the photo prompt by NannyDaddy

Even though my wife thinks I’m crazy, I’m out here every morning at six o’clock on the dot: overalls, lunch pail, and hardhat. Retirement is for old people, and I’m barely seventy years young.

When I was a child, this was all cornfields. I spent many a summer day busting my back in the fields. At night I dreamed about life in the big city. The minute I got my license, I picked up the want ads and found work in town. My crew and I worked our magic across the landscape, metamorphosing horizontal agriculture into vertical architecture.

Today when I close my eyes, I don’t hear rain slapping broken pavement: I see the sparks from the welding torches setting the girders into place. Thunder claps like the staccato rhythm of the riveters, and the bass rumble of the earthmovers.

Sometimes, when the lightning flashes I catch the faintest glimpse of the wonders to be, hear the sounds of children laughing in the park, and the bustle of people rushing to work.

As the clouds break around the sunrise like a ring of fire in the sky, I stand awestruck for a moment, and wonder why anyone would think I would ever give this up.

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