• ‘Twas A Cold & Icy Morning

    What a cold, cold, icy, dreary day! And, we have an entire weekend of the same ahead of us. Listen, I’m not gonna lie. Girl is sitting here in PJs and my old, favorite, ratty slippers from 8 years ago. I’m warm. I’ve got the heat cranked up and a cup of coffee within arm’s reach.

    It’s a Friday morning. And, on a typical Friday morning, I’d be sitting in my office working. But, instead, I am fortunate to be able to work from home today. (Which is a good thing because this summer girl has NO clue how to handle a car on ice.) So, here I sit enjoying the novelty of working in my PJs.

    And, then… then I think about my sweetie pie. (I’m sure he hates that I call him my sweetie pie on a very public medium, by the way. Ha!) And, I think about all the other folks like him who’s jobs do not allow them to stay warm and cozy and safe indoors during weather like this. In fact, there’s a whole slew of folks out there who’s jobs become more demanding and busier and more dangerous in this weather. It’s just the nature of the work.

    You see, my sweetie pie is a lineman for Comanche Electric Cooperative Association. And, with this sort of weather comes power outages. So, then my heart aches knowing that there’s all these men and women who have to be out working in this. It makes for a long, cold, bone chilling, dangerous day.

    To all those folks, I say thank you. And, I’m not the only one who appreciates you all. The other day, Aaron came home with a beautifully written, heartfelt thanks from one of the guys on the coop line. Here is what he wrote:

    The Lineman

    ‘Twas a cold and icy morning,
    In the darkness before dawn.
    The phones were constant ringing,
    Wanting power turned back on.

    The wind did cut right through me,
    My coffee cup ran dry,
    I trudged on through the darkness,
    As sparks arced across the sky.

    The tree had fallen ‘neath the load,
    The danger I did see.
    A misstep or my carelessness
    Could mean the end for me.

    A simple prayer, I then did pray,
    “Lord, guide my cold hands all the way.”
    With steady hands and nerves of steel,
    I made it through the whole ordeal.

    Soaked through and through down to the bone,
    All feeling in my hands was gone.
    I’m headed home, my job is through,
    The thanks I got was serving you.

    So when that lineman you do see,
    Be sure to thank him for you and me.
    He does his duty with thanks or no,
    All for our comfort, come rain or snow.

    -Jim Johnson

    About Amy Coffey

    Amy is a Texas based 30-something living the life in Comanche, Texas: population 4,259. Who says you have to live in the big city to live your dreams? Her soul’s hankerin’ to create has nurtured her love of writing, photography, design, daydreaming, and, oh, a billion other creative outlets that have caught her fancy at one time or another. Amy's crafty, clever, and conversational writing style is riddled with her quirky internal dialogue, not to mention raw emotion, introspection, and depth.
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