Hell on Wheels

Am I in hell?  Please send me the zip code so I can see if it matches mine.

What can explain these torrid conditions?  Looking around at the general state of “us,” I am pretty sure it’s not our smokin’ hot bodies delivering all this heat.  Could be climate change or maybe the state of politics—all of that fiery outrage, or maybe burning nuclear facilities…

Whatever the cause, I woke up AGAIN  this morning in a sweat after a restless night from the sound of the window air conditioner turning on and off, on and off…and still falling short of comfort.  Then I dragged my limp body outside to go to work.  Immediately, my eyeballs began to sizzle in their sockets.  I made it to my car parked in the open lot.  The heat from the black asphalt penetrated the soles of my shoes.  Hoping to lift my feet off the scorching pavement, I opened the car door and stood back.  The temperature inside the all-black interior had surely reached the melting point.  I pulled out my emergency blanket to sit on to keep from searing my flesh as I dug around inside the various compartments and came up with a couple of old cloth COVID masks to wrap around the blistering hot steering wheel just in case I ever wanted to use my hands again.

Once on my way, I noticed the streets were mostly quiet…too hot even for cars. Unless it was delirium from heat exhaustion, I am pretty sure I passed the devil sprawled on a city bench selling ribs he had grilled on the scorching hot pavement.  He seemed pretty pleased with himself.  And he looked all too familiar.

I would have turned on the radio for some pleasant distraction, but I was afraid I might drop one of the cloth masks that were making steering possible.  For some reason, it seemed that keeping my jaw tense and my brow furrowed was the only force making forward progress possible.  I arrived at work and pulled into my usual spot just as the AC kicked in.

Inside the office, the air conditioner ran overtime, and I had to put on a sweater.  The extremes in temperatures seemed to overwhelm my body’s metabolism and I was near pass-out starving by 11:00 AM.  I had to stop and eat my lunch.  I feared this was a misstep.  By eating too early, I might not have the strength to get all the way home.  Coping with this relentless heat was wearing down my resistance, and I feared I might be forced to bargain with the devil for some of his terrible street food.

Somehow I made it through the busy work day.  It was time to start the exhausting process all over again.  I stepped out onto the pavement.  The air was a wall of heat.  The temperature had risen at least 20 degrees in the hours since I vacated my car.  I opened the car door bracing myself for the second wave of heat that would punch me in the face. 

I sat for a bit with the door open hoping that somehow the outside air would push out the hotter inside air, but it was useless.  I could feel that my mood and my judgment were as impaired as if I had been at the bar doing shots all day instead of working at a computer.  I muttered to myself, “Jesus, take the wheel,” as I put the car in reverse.

I made it home without being pulled over for impaired driving or having to stop to bargain with the devil for bad food.  As I entered my parking lot, sunlight flickered through a cluster of trees illuminating a heavily shaded and empty parking spot. I slid between the white lines and sat for a few moments in the soft light of the trees’ canopy.  The air conditioner began to blow cold air. My jaw and my brow relaxed.  Hope returned along with my senses.  I laughed out loud at the image of the haughty devil on the sidewalk.  He may be pleased with himself for generating this hellish, unrelenting heat, but with the rustle of leaves, it was the sweet shade that got the last word:  God is still here.