last morning

I got up that last morning to watch the sun rise. I saw Helios crest those frozen mountains in awe. That was the last morning I saw the dragon fire light the range of teeth on the horizon. That was the last morning I saw those infinitely blue clouds dance among the Sun’s first kiss of rays. The freezing wind whipped through my sweater, and even the hood pulled up around my ears didn’t stop me from hearing the blasts batter the huge satellite dish nearby.

I saw the coyotes wander across my path as if I was already non-existent. I heard noises from a dozen birds I couldn’t name and sat scant feet from a rattlesnake coming out far too early to start his day.

The sky was a battleground for dominance between the insistent light of day and the persistent clouds holding the darkness of night. I watched that battle with eyes blessed by the desert landscape with a thousand images; given to me by way of goodbye.

I watched until my cheeks were rubicund and my nose was numb. I could barely feel my fingers tucked into my armpits. Eventually self preservation won out over the cynosure of dawn. Half crawling, half stumbling back up the stairs to the dorms which had sheltered me the night before, I flopped inside to shower and dress for what would be my final day working here in the desert.

Passing through the cafeteria, still steaming from the shower, I got a chance to talk with Harris. His wife just left her position in another department to go and work for the school district so she could be closer to their three children. Harris was the closest neighbor I had to my little house behind Wal-mart. His twin brother, who worked with us, and I spent a lot of time at work in jocular conversation.

Harris’ life would end 2 weeks later, when a PFC coming back to the base late for his shift at guard duty after a night of drinking and too little sleep ran a schoolteacher off the road. She would swerve into a van carrying 6 of my coworkers to their jobs early one friday morning. The roof of the van was 13 inches from the front seat cushion when it stopped rolling.

Jason, Harris’ partner in crime at work, was standing behind him in line. He was hired the same day I was some years ago. We went to a defensive driving course together that first week. My first impression of him was that his smile never faltered. He smiled genuinely all the time, but most especially when talking about his wife at home with his five boys.

Jason’s body would be thrown out the side window of the van as it shattered and then crushed to pulp under the rolling vehicle on it’s third touch down.

Their boss, Larry Sr., is the father of one of my old employees who transferred to another department; Larry, Jr. Junior just had his first son this past year. He worked for me through the pregnancy and we spent long hours discussing families and the importance of fathers. They come from a family of large men with large hearts and have been here in town and at our base for as long as anyone can remember.

Larry Sr. was seated in the front of the van as well. He was killed on the first rollover.

Two other men were injured in the crash and treated by first responders. One almost lost his arm in surgery later that day.

The last man, a long time methamphetamine user and ensconced middle manager for a barely functional department was the only person to escape the accident with no major injuries. He was the sole conscious witness to the awful aftermath of those 14 seconds. With the lives of these good and willing men laying around him in scattered remnants, I can only imagine what he must have thought. I won’t flatter him by assuming he thought to take their place; that his wasted life would have been much better served in exchange for one of the others who had so much to live for, but maybe just maybe he resented his waste of a life for those moments as he lay next to the wreck covered in his coworkers blood and brains, thinking of the loss to the world.

I have made the resolution this past year, not for the New Year but over the last 6 months and for the rest of my life, to never resent myself. To live and experience my life in such a way as to never regret a moment of wasted time, never spend a night bereft of intent and without responsibility for myself and the world around me. Watching my life baptized in the fire of that desert sun rising over the two year hibernation i endured in California; and now weeks later imagining that thirsty sand turned red and gorging on the blood of those men, I know there will be no wasted moment; no pretense at or partial expenditure of effort. For those people fortunate enough to be a part of my inner circle, I promise this: I will take personal responsibility for my decisions, my life, and your well being. I will protect the people dear to me and challenge them inasmuch as they will be capable of dealing with for their continued growth. I care for each of you and promise that I will make your wellbeing and safety my personal responsibility, until the day comes when I am no longer able.

This might sound a little preachy, but it’s the way I feel. I deserve the best in life and should be willing to give the best in return. So, if I’ve left anyone in the dust over the last year, don’t be angry. Just know that I am being true to myself and the people who matter and are worthy of my precious time. Maybe you should take it as a wake up call; that there is more out there than reality television and fashion magazines. That bitterness and negativity have no place on my path.

I’ve taken this holiday season to be close to the one who matters most to me. I’ve learned a lot about others and myself in the last month. Please take this opportunity to contact the people who matter in your life. Let them know that they are the light in your life; that they makes the holiday season special.

This weekend marks the end of this turbulent, amazing, disgusting, painful, wonderful year. I’ve lost so much but gained so much more. I only hope that the coming year holds as much trial and reward for you as the last one has for me. Always remember, nothing worth having ever came easy… and it will be worth it when you are through.