I NEVER TOOK MY ARMY BOOTS OFF
The Hitchhiker from Kosovo
THE HITCHHIKER FROM KOSOVO
It was Saturday morning. Heavy rain played a dismal tune on my concrete balcony. The noise awakened me from a deep sleep. The rain’s rhythmic drops signaled another day of dreary German Autumn weather. It was the kind of weather that makes me want to tuck my head back underneath my warm covers to get more sleep. But the annoying drops canceled my plans to snooze more. Still groggy, I got out of bed and stepped over to the window. I drew the curtains back a bit and frowned at the thick, gray clouds weeping non stop and shrouding the morning in gloom.
High winds violently tore through the bushes in the garden below my balcony. Winds whipped through the majestic trees with anger, bending the sturdy branches to odd angles, short of snapping them off. Leaves, barely clinging to the branches, scattered at the mercy of the gale-force winds. Ironically, the weather reminded me of the hurricanes I experienced in New Orleans as a child.
It was a day to stay at home, chill, read, and wait for this storm to pass over. I hoped that this depressing weather would break away to reveal blue skies and some warm, rejuvenating sunshine. In weather such as this, I’d usually stay in bed nursing a cup of hot tea and pore over new magazines which had been stacking up. But I wanted a newspaper, more so for the crossword puzzle and comics, which have become a part of my daily routine. I thought I was crazy to chance going out in this storm. Stubborn determination and a bit of craziness made me make the trip anyway.
I remembered that my umbrella was in the trunk of my car. Duh! So, I bundled up in my rain gear, bolted out the door and sprinted to my car at Olympic sp...