What the story could have been…but is not.

Behind The White Gate.
Take 1.

I am walking to work and it’s hot as hell. I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job is the mantra in my head along the way. I don’t even notice the birds and the butterflies and the flowers of the gardens as I pass. I hate the sun that beats me down…the sweat I have to keep wiping from my brow. My white work shoes are getting dirty and dusty and then scuffed as I trip over a broken piece of sidewalk . I think of how I have not yet had coffee and of how hot it is too early in the day and of how I am not sure that I unplugged my iron at my apartment as well as how I left the window unit A/C running and how I will be gone for fourteen hours , such a waste of my electric bill.
I walk by the gate again…well…I come to the gate that I daily walk by….the one that I kinda day dream about what lays behind it. All the time. Every day. It’s the one thing that slows me down on this walk and makes me stop and just…deep breath. Deep breath. I stood there for a good neighbour must think I’m crazy minute just staring. Then finally , suck in a breath and walk right up to the gate and knock…because they say that opportunity knocks , right? Well I am , for one, not waiting around…and doing the knocking for opportunity. Because I hate my job and at this very moment I am kinda wondering why the hell on life itself. I knock…I bang…I even shout. Like a true crazy. Without even a clue as to what I hope to possibly find behind that gate.

It doesn’t open. No surprise. But I realize a great disappointment. And I step back…and realize that opportunity just isn’t there. Likely is it just a yard behind there, neglected and weed filled, a rusty BBQ pit and some uncomfortable lawn furniture and I somehow feel so incredibly deflated I just step back and…stare again at the gate. Then…I walk onto my job. That I hate. I hate. I hate. Because rent must be paid and opportunity just isn’t to be found. Today. Behind a white gate.


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