Ever Think About…

Marisa’s fingers feel like fire, the pain radiates up her hands.  Years of rolling the tobacco have taken their toll, her fingers curl and are stained brown from the leaves.   Bent because of the pain, the arthritis that creeps from the joints in her fingers.  It will be over soon, today’s shift that is.  Her hands have begun to ache also from the rolling, nearly ten hours today.   This is what she knows.  Hour after hour, day after day, she rolls the tobacco filler into the binder leaves.  Back and forth, rolling the tobacco into the long familiar shapes.  She trims off the excess and slides each cigar into a mold.  She starts again until the mold is filled, then starts a new mold.  This is what she does.  This is what she has done for countless years.  This is what she will do until god willing it is all over.

The sky was a deep blue, clear and they had the wind at thier backs.  They were hitting slightly into the sun on that mild November afternoon.  One at a time they all stepped up to the tee.  Swing after swing their golf balls flew down the fairway towards the green.  Even on the long par three they all easily landed on the fairway.  All just feet away from the pin.  Each walked up to their ball, judged the putt then sank the shot.  These gentlemen were not amateurs.  They knew the game, they knew what they needed to do.  They had all called the shot with style and perfection.

I made my way around the streets of downtown.  Cars honk as the lights turn green, someone is spending too much time tuning the radio or talking on the phone.  The wind is calm today and the sun is out.  It is actually very warm at this point in the morning.  People are moving, important places to go.  I try to get out of the way as I snap photos here and there.  I get a slight reprieve as I wait at a crosswalk, the others eager to get where ever they are going.  The light changes and as I cross the road, I can smell the mixture of gas and exhaust coming from the cars.  Who just by chance are also very eager to get where ever they are going.  Too bad for them I am not in a hurry to be anywhere.  I take my time crossing, I can feel them looking at me, looking at the light, waiting for the change.

I must have timed it just perfect, as I step back up onto the sidewalk the light changes and everyone is back on their way.  Back across the street I can see a new group of people gathering to cross again.  I turn around and just happen to look up.  The building I see is not new, it is not covered in glass and metal.  It is old.  I don’t even  see the real colors, the browns and dark red woods on the ground floor.  I see shades of black and white, the grays that contrast with each other perfectly.  I don’t see the bright red sign that sits on top of it announcing that it is a hotel.  I see a photograph.  I lean against a light pole to steady myself, move my camera up and click.