Joe got in the truck. His mind was numb, and he was on autopilot this morning.
He usually hated heading to work in the early morning darkness. The long drive to the fields always seemed so lonely. He didn't mind it this morning, though. He had some thinking to do.
His headlights illuminated only a few hundred feet of the old road in front of him. No matter; he knew the way by heart. He'd driven it hundreds of times, back and forth. He didn't know how many more times he'd have to do it.
He hadn't decided what to do with the money, and didn't want to, not immediately. He wanted to let the euphoria subside. The panic, too. He didn't want to be rash and blow the money foolishly.
He wanted to be wise with this money. He wanted to make it last, really build something. He didn't know what, but it had to be worthwhile. It would have to make his dad proud.
"Be careful with your money, Joe. It isn't to be wasted. It's a tool. Use it to make a difference, both for you and for others. And remember, if it's shiny, then be sure it won't last."
What should he do with it? He could travel and have fun, but he knew that trips brought you right back to where you were when you left. Nothing wrong with them, but he understood the irony of the fact that trips didn't really take you anywhere.
He could donate the money. That was admirable and helped others. But it didn't build anything. The money would eventually be spent and gone.
He could start a business, but he didn't know what he'd be good at. Most small businesses folded in the first five years. He didn't want to be full of regrets in five years at how he'd failed and lost everything.
He pulled out of his thoughts as he parked the truck. He glanced at the clock as he swung his legs out the door. Uh-oh. Four minutes past 6.
He felt his chest tighten when he heard Chester's gravelly voice boom in his ears. He turned around and saw the foreman waddling in his direction.
"Save it, Chester. I quit."
What would you do if you won the lottery?