His feet were cold. His hands were colder. The rain that had been threatening to fall all day had just decided to follow through. The thin trickle that ran from the back of his yellow hard hat was defying the laws of physics as it ran straight down the back of his old flannel shirt.
“Why did I go to college?” he thought to himself as he jabbed his shovel into the wall of the hole he’d been widening. The foreman said the job had to be done by hand, because of some nearby trees. “God forbid we mess up the precious crape myrtles.” Another shovel-full of muddy clay went over the side. The man’s shoulders had given up being sore. The edge of the hole was up to his neck now. “I have $48,000 in student debt. Seriously. What.the.hell?”
The next strike of the shovel caused a small mud slide. The first time this had happened, the man had managed to step back in time to avoid the cold slime oozing over the tops of his work boots and into his socks. This time he was not so lucky. He tossed the shovel out of the hole and climbed out after it. Might as well have lunch now.
The grape jelly on his pb&j he’d brought had turned the sandwich bread into a purple time bomb. Whatever. At least the apple was still … where was it? Oh right. He already ate it. When his phone rang, the smiling face of his wife appeared next to his on the screen. The picture had been taken three years ago on a vacation they’d taken to the mountains. Everything had looked so sunny – so hopeful then. “How’d I get here?” he wondered.
“Hey, baby,” his wife greeted him when he answered. She sounded tired.
“Hi,” was all he felt he had the strength to muster. Somehow though, he added, “How’s your day going?”
“Oh you know … the kids are exhausting. Don’t tell my mom, but she was right. Raising three kids is way harder than two.”
He chuckled weakly, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Are you working in this mess?”
He knew of course she meant the rain, and that she also knew the kind of time constraints the crew was under. “Yeah. Mike wants to get at least this side done today. I’m having lunch in the truck now though. Hopefully the rain will let up soon.”
“You’re eating lunch? It’s 10am.”
“Yup.” The tone in his verbal shrug was enough to convey all the frustrations of the morning.
“So did you see what else was in your lunch box?”
“It’s in the back of the truck. I’ll check in a sec.”
“Ok. I gotta go. Just wanted to check how your day was going.”
“Mmkay. Love you. Hopefully I won’t be too late tonight,” he said.
“Love you too. Be safe.”
With that, the call disconnected, the man put his phone back in the inside pocket of his weather-proof jacket, and opened the door of the Ford F-350. His blue lunch box was in the back of the dual cab. When he opened it, he saw a small folded piece of paper. Unfolding it revealed a picture colored for him in secret by his 3 year-old. It depicted the man in bright Crayola colors in an unsteady but passionate hand. He was wearing his yellow hard hat. Next to him was a drawing of his wife, and their three kids. All five of them were smiling broadly.
When the man carefully folded up the paper and set it back in the box to keep it from the rain, the smiles depicted in crayon had somehow been transferred to his face. As he slid back into the muddy pit, he no longer questioned why he stayed at this job.
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