Motivation, Part 1

“I think I've forgotten why I'm still doing this,” Vanessa said. She dropped the last of the boxes into the truck and sat down on the bumper.

“I thought you enjoyed it,” Ryan said.

“I do,” Vanessa replied. “Well, I did. I think. I enjoyed the fact that I was helping people. Some days got a rush from the work itself, when some event really turned out well. But lately?” She slumped against the stack behind her. “It feels like a lot of work for too little difference.”

“We do make a difference, though. A lot of these folks wouldn't be alive without us.”

“They wouldn't be alive without the PFA, you mean,” Vanessa said. She hoisted herself up and started helping Ryan button up the truck. “You or me? I don't know if it matters. Someone else would do what we do here. I could step down and the trucks would keep rolling out.”

“Don't say that. We don't have that many volunteers, let alone anybody with as much time dedicated as you. You're not so easy to replace as that, Vanessa.”

“Maybe.” The padlock clicked closed and Vanessa went silent. She didn't speak for the rest of the trip home.