Today at the donut shop a big round man in denim overalls and laceless logging boots blustered in and ordered two donuts. His pantlegs were bloused partially into his socks. He was jolly and weatherbeaten. His boot toes were worn through, and his imposing frame swayed in the reflection on the sneeze guard as he waited to pay. I walked past him with a nod, and stepped outside into the parking lot. It has been cool the past few mornings, and the dew tends to sit late and heavy this time of year. Many crops nearby are receiving their final irrigation. The big man had parked his hay squeeze diagonally in the parking lot, still idling to clear the condensation from the inside of the windshield. The giant machine rumbled in clattering diesel vibration. I could see the door panel quivering and white smoke rising slowly from the exhaust like a ghost. I bet this was the most exciting part of his day. He knows he’ll sit in that big rig for the next ten hours, just like he sat in it every other day this week. This place is full of people taking one day at a time, and hoping that the next is better than the last.
