Coming Home So Late

Rough draft


The whole year getting to bed early has been a very good thing.  Yesterday I came home late and went to bed around 12am.  I felt tired on the train.  The late night shift workers were all on the train and looked pretty exahusted also.  I hid my head between the seat and the window and went to sleep.  It reminded me of when I would go to bed late in the past and take the train. 

Last night was another one of those late trips home.  I don't bother anymore fighting to prevent these things from happening like letting the day slip away when work is slow and the bank account is empty.  When taking risks at this point in life is the only way.  Holding on to the cold dark winter night before it breaks you in two.

I felt the soreness burning in my back.  The stress from the shift of problems with no fast resolve in mind. Coming home so late has never been more better.  Just like clock work, another cash loan, another early train ride stretched to midnight, and an unpracticed and unplanned opportunity again.  Another risk.  Risk after risk.  How far do you take such a road? 

The next day comes and it feels just right in all the right moments: 7 hours of sleep, a shower, a smile in the morning instead of the unrelaxed frown that comes from a choice of reasons.  The perfect breakfast, cup of coffee, and a hot shower.  Sitting waiting was the most uncomfortable part during the job interview.  The whole store in front of you.  A job applicant who just read the most important questions and prayer for wisdom.

The interview was too much something.  What was it?  Could it have been the pressure of first impressions, a loss for words, or too many words?  The end of the day after all the clammer of ideas is soothed with some television and blogging the urge of unrest pangs the night.  What else is there to do but wait on the Lord.  There is the treadmill, a letter to write, State of the Union to watch, or to continue the risks of job scouring on the web.nly t

In conclusion, there is no conclusion.

Truly He is my Rock and my Salvation! My mighty rock! My salvation!  Do not put vain hope in stolen goods.  Psalms 62

o my strong tower, my refuge, LORD, on my bed I remember you, I sing in the shadow of your wings, Psalms 63