The Death of the Traveling Salesman Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words

The Death of the Traveling Salesman - Essay Example Sometimes the silence can be deafening; the song of the birds can be maddening. At times I find myself thinking of some other places, meeting other people, living another life. It would be nice to have another friend, just perhaps to have somebody to tell me about other places and things that are far beyond the woods that surround me. But then I thought, it won't be long and Sonny and I will have another one with us, and I quietly smile in anticipation. I brought out mother's old lamp outside to clean it. It was dusty and dull, but if I just give it a scrub, it would show, though not quite as clearly now, the beautiful lamp it once had been. Gently, as if in reverence to my mother's relic, I let the rag touch the lamp. At once, I was lost in reminiscence of all those wonderful times when this lamp shone in the center of our room. The many nights that we spent together sitting around it telling stories and laughing at jokes seemed to flood back to my memory as I began to push with more force into the crevices of the lamp. Ah, how I miss all of them - my family and our life in this very same house. I missed them all, but I could not shake the thought of wishing that someday, I'd be somewhere else. Half-smiling, I meticulously worked on cleaning my lamp while lost in reverie when, suddenly, a crash somewhere down below jolted me back to the present. I looked out and waI looked out and waited, my heart pounding like a thousand drums inside my chest. What could that be It sounded like a giant rock falling down the ravine, but it could have been something else. I remember hearing a whirring sound before the crash, something like a car, but cars never go this way. Was it possible that a car jumped of the ravine Were there people inside Are they hurt I found myself trembling, not just because I worried about people I never even knew, but also because I was excited that someone had wandered this way. I was scared to know what happened to them, while at the same time it scared me not to know anything about them. I was thinking what to do when I heard footsteps coming towards the house. There in front of me was a man, middle-aged and dressed too impeccably for somebody wandering through the woods. Immediately, I thought, this man survived falling down the ravine. "Good afternoon, madam," he said. I just looked at him in shock: I was shocked that somebody got out of the car before it fell, shocked that he was still able to gather his things, shocked at finding him there in front of me. Then there was something else: perhaps, I was too dumbfounded to have someone else here to break the silence for me. He began to talk about his car; he had an accident he was saying. "Sonny ain't here now, but he'll be home soon," I told him, "he can pull your car out of the ravine for you." My husband Sonny could do just about anything; he is my hero. "Are you okay" He didn't seem to hear my question. He was looking at me with glazed eyes, as if he was looking at me but not seeing me. He was detached, as if his mind was wandering perhaps in disbelief at how he had survived the accident. I do not blame him. "I am still sick" he goes on to tell me that he isn't well. Before he could finish, I open the door to let him in, not knowing why I trusted this man to come inside with me. Perhaps I pity him for what happened, perhaps because I was lonely and I wanted some company. Probably because I could see that, despite his