The Blessing of the Trucks

 Late afternoon found us at the Elkhart County Fairgrounds.  A quick look past the Montana motor home convention, and we were nearly the first in a lineup of trucks. Supper was enjoyed with a few others - those in charge of the event, and early birds like ourselves.

Late evening found us closing up the truck and gathering what we needed for the night - he with his duffle bag and briefcase and she with her backpack, for the half mile trot to our Airbnb accommodations.  A ride was offered, and we were there in minutes.

Our hosts were gone for the weekend, but had left us the passcode to enter their lovely and very clean home.  Up the stairs to our rooms - a second floor bedroom with a delightfully soft bed and pillows, a sitting room with comfy chairs, a coffee/tea station, and TV.  A bathroom completed our suite.  All beautifully decorated in a travel theme.  Maps on the wall were tagged with the invitation to pin our home location.  Folks from all over the world have rested here.

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Saturday morning early the Trucker was up and gone.  His Passenger, who had spent an uncomfortable night due in part to bruises at all the wrong places, opted to forgo the fun of watching trucks roll into the fairgrounds, and instead relax a bit longer.

She set out for a brisk walk just before noon, arriving in time for a chicken and pork BBQ lunch and the afternoon service.  The afternoon was quite warm, and she wished she'd come in the morning and gone back to the house for the afternoon.  After the prayer time over each individual truck and driver, the Trucker opened the bunk doors to create a breeze while she caught a nap.

This weekend for the Passenger was one to sit on the sidelines and rest, emotionally as well as physically.  So she let the socializing to the Trucker.

A supper of pizza and leftovers, and conversation with one of the prayer leader couples followed.  Cleanup was accomplished with all hands on deck, then folks drifted outside.  The children ran off more steam, as a lightbulb is brightest just before it burns out.  One by one the trucks were fired up, grumbling quietly under their breath, their lights glowing amber in the dusk.  The Trucker snapped his last photos, and they pulled away to the front lot.

Then it was a quiet hike in the dark to their quiet and cozy rooms for the night.

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Sunday morning, 5:30am found them both awake, so why not?  A quick pack job and the Trucker and his Passenger were off, he with his his duffle bag and briefcase, she with her backpack, computer bag and stitchery bag.  Now the street lights lit their way, and a cool night breeze ruffled their hair. 

Morning would break in an hour.  For now, the predawn darkness, the empty road, was theirs.