Sand Blasted
The whirling tornado of desert only tortured my tanker and the surrounding area for a few minutes but the damage was visible. The paint on the truck had been dulled by the grit and the windows had an etched appearance to them that only sandblasting can do. I could see that the curtain in the window of the checkpoint building had been ripped away and the flag that dangled from the pole, over time, had been shredded and sand eaten by the abuse of the wind and constant storms.
Stepping out of the truck I stood stunned by what the power of mere powder and wind could do. I was brought back to reality by the sound of static and clicking coming from my handheld radio.
“You okay?” squawked the voice.
“Yeah, I’m good”, I responded, “but the truck’s not going to start after that mess. I need to be picked up.”
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Memories of my military time. Sandstorms are BRUTAL, but these times were and are meaningful to me. I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Find joy. Be joy. Enjoy.