Different Worlds

It's getting cooler, and the commute by bike both to and from work is becoming more and more pleasant. I especially enjoy my pre-dawn ride. The streets are empty, and the pavement seems to belong to me alone. Even the roving tomcats have bedded down in anticipation of the sunrise. Ambulances idle blissfully among hazes of diesel fumes while their inhabitants try not to appear to be snoozing inside.

Occasionally I will hear the solitary wail of a freight train's horn and hear the clattering of it's steel wheels on the rails as I approach the trestle. It's like a foreshadowing of what awaits me in the hustle and bustle of the hospital, only minutes ahead in my day. But as I weave through the streets past the storefronts, the granite pillars of state buildings and last night's litter from the dance halls, the streets are mine for a few moments more.

I lock the bike up, grab my bag and secure my lights. I cross the street and try to remember what was at the beginning of my schedule when I left yesterday. The automatic doors retract their condensate laden glass panels to allow me into the air conditioned environment of the hospital, and my world begins to heat up.