Aching

My muscles ache this morning.
They ache from a day spent
lifting 40 foot beams for catwalks
into place,
the hoisting them using the manual lifts
into their respective places
hanging from the ceiling.

After that I spent a night hauling around 70 pounds
on my back, sometimes more
when you add tools
that we use when we
execute our drills.
Moving filled water hoses,
and fans, and hustling here and there,
crawling around inside the house
we set on fire
to locate patients,
and then haul them out.
Then reloading the hoses,
and putting away the tools
and boarding up the windows
before we leave.

It's an ache of satisfaction.
I got the jobs done.
A catwalk frame hangs in the theater.
Drills were executed with even
better results than before,
and more learning accumulated.
It's also an ache of lonliness,
being away from home,
and those I love to do those things.
The community won't hug me,
or run me a bath.
They even cop an attitude,
and some are woefully ignorant
of our mission here as volunteers.

So I spent a night in the rain,
instead of a warm chair,
and this morning I ache.
And I get up and do it
all over again.
I ache, yet I smile.