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Ridiculously Insane

May 8, 2017

So I will not be buried in the same cemetery as F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda. (Anyway) this thought had crossed my mind as I sat in an airplane waiting to take off. Ahead the monument rose piercing the sky scape. Within seconds a plane flew over it challenging my ‘state of awe.’ (Anyway) the person or thing who first caught my attention was the burly man who came driving around the corner balancing the cargo in the little cart effortlessly taking the mental space between me and the horizon. The bags were still getting loaded. This was months ago. The plane eventually flew and we landed in another place. (Another chapter in the pioneer saga. My understanding of the word ‘pioneer’ was that a person moves to a new location out of necessity, fights the elements and settles down to eternal happiness. But the new version is that pioneer is a breed that can uproot itself, move and settle in new places, adjust itself, morph and be progressive. More like gypsies to my mind. (Anyway.) The land is vast. We reside in pockets and corners all over. We text, phone, and once in a blue moon, skype. The last one can be startling and unsettling because we don’t do it often enough. But we move on. We bury our thoughts. So, from this new place we boarded our bags again into the trunk and headed to yet another airport. The sky is the only land that moves with us everywhere. Unless too many buildings have been built to hide it from view. Or make it less of a presence. A gorgeous sunset presented itself from yet another airplane in the glorious hues of purples and violets and indigos and grays. Like an earthquake unwinding up in the sky. As we landed I slammed the car door on my palm. The pain – I cried softly opening my mouth. Handkerchief! – no thanks, I don’t need it. No tears fall. I cry softly opening my mouth. The crying felt good. Even without the tears. The pain – nerves and bones all mangled. Here – Oh, ice. Oh, my god! the ice. lifesaver. ‘So how do you all like the place so far?’ the ice – my god – the ice. lifesaver. Overnight in a new land the hand mended itself. Sunrise, and then a sunset. So on. That is when the flashes in the left eye started. My eyes are the driest. I have no more tears!

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From → Short Fiction

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