Short Story

Strawberry Fields Forever-

   Yet another Brisk and Chilly Morning was signaled by a sunrise comprised of Dark Blues, Oranges with Pinks, and plenty of clouds to reflect off of, same as any other on the Central Coast. As Normal, I dragged my lazy ass out of bed, took a quick shower, fed the rabbits, and since it was a Saturday, I decided to ride the Bus to Guadalupe to try and catch the little Shortline do its daily switching in the Union pacific Interchange yard.


   On the bus, I stared out the window, fighting the urge to doze off(which I've done on the Breeze from Lompoc, poor Bus driver had to wake me up). I watched the Bleak Tan buildings of Main street give way to fields-and lots of 'em. I started to think about the Farm Workers, toiling in the hot sun every day, trying to provide a better life for their Kids then they had when they were my age. I felt bad, never taking the time to recognize the hard work these parents go through, and furious they weren't celebrated more in the community for their contributions to our economy.


   When I got to Guad, I headed to the Amtrak station with my battered-yet reliable-iPhone3GS to watch the little engines whir away, shunting cars, smoking and huffing, "Put-Put-Put, Whir, screech, Put-Put" all the while billowing smoke like dragons(Keep in mind, these are Diesels built between 1950 and 1959, not the most "Environmentally Friendly" diesels, but they are old...), blasting their raspy Horns as they headed for Home Base with a line of around 60 uncooperative cars, expressing their annoyance with screeching breaks loud enough to make a Banshee's ears bleed.


   After a relatively eventful hour, including an impatient driver who decided to express their dis-pleasement with the Railroad's Daily Operations by a blast of their horn at the Passing engine and a less than impatient Operator who decided to stop on the crossing and sit there for 20 minutes allowing traffic to build up only to remind the driver who's in charge, quite the site. Heading back to the bus stop, I found myself thinking about those fields yet again.


   After waiting too long for the bus, I was fed up with the SMAT service and chose to walk the nine miles home, it'd be faster than waiting for that damned bus anyways. Walking back to Santa Maria, I ran across a fruit stand selling fresh strawberries. Being a good member of society, and a huge fan of Strawberries, I took the Five dollar bill out of my pocket that I had brought for lunch and bought a basket full for a snack on the way back.


   Before walking off, I noticed how tired the man at the stand looked, his eyes were sunken, weighed down by the ripples under his eyes, his dirty hands from picking the berries for Eight hours straight, and his arched back from bending over for those eight hours in the hot sun. If his back wasn't slouched, he'd be a good 5'10", but his hunch dropped him a good 5 or more inches.


   Using the Spanish I'd learned, I asked him "Habla Ingles?" "Minimal" he replied. "I just wanted to say, these strawberries look delicious, and, thank you for your hard work, I really admire what you do every day and I know I would never have the strength to do what you do every day, you all deserve more recognition in the community," I told him. He cracked a toothy smile, and replied "Thank You, Gracias." "Es mi Pleasure, no problemo" I replied him, and continued on my walk.