From a Streetcorner, 3am

And once again, here we are. Sitting. Waiting. Burning diesel, subsonic rumble the constant backdrop to my work-night. Orange skyglow, dark trees. Soft teal instrument panel lights. Muted computerglow. Streetcorner. Low levels. The usual.

For seventy-five miles around, we are it, for transporting ambulances. I am it, sitting rightseat, next up. Such is rural EMS. I like it.

Driving down the mountain earlier, we pass through a long, dark chute, trees wrapping high and close around the long downsloping two lane road. The forest is still deep and cold and merciless in the uncaring way of nature. We are it for that too, the sum total of backcountry-capable ALS resources on-duty in two counties.

The woods are vast and thick and trackless and above all dark. I have a headlamp. A backpack. Boots. A few more toys. Seems very little, against the immense, endless, towering evergreen-filled snow-covered hills.

In the end, I suppose, if it comes to it, it'll be enough.