11/6/2009 2:26 pm
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It's a 1987 Dodge RamWagon Van. Rusty patches all over that draw the pointed fingers and laughter of schoolchildren in buses. No matter, we roll on.
Down Route 130 we go, this machine has 11 windows bringing all the light and warmth of the sun. The sofas inside have happy smiling cats. 50 total. Most are alive, others are ghost cats passed on. I turn to them and ask,"have you ever heard of Al Gore?" They just keep smiling and bask in the warmth of solar energy and itinerary.
On we go. We mortals will have one more snack before takeoff. I pull over to a scenic overlook and everyone meows- they know. I have a big bucket full of canned food and paper plates. Everyone goes wild with the sound of pop tops popping and fragrant food being scooped out. I put out about 20 plates then set about feeding myself. I eat straight from a spaghetti can and drink pineapple soda pop. The food is wonderful and the radio plays. Everyone is filled with a melancholy joy.
We pull back to the road and the hammer is depressed steadily down as we speed toward ascent. The clearing in the sky I had hoped for appears. Around a blue void a white ring of clouds and Heaven beckons. I slowly pull back the lever and the nose is up and we become airborne. We're all excited, and purr, meow, yowl, laugh, and cry as the Earth below fades to a memory of vague joy, preponderant sadness. That's behind us now and so good to see the haunt of dreams as we hurl into the beautiful space.
There's a giant white chair in a billowy cloud space. A chair-side table is set with a radio for soft music and nostalgia. The rooftop hatch opens and me and the cats seem to float into place, into that comfortable chair that we dreamed about. The RamWagon falls off back into the fire of atmosphere back there and I'm so grateful for the way it served me, delivered me, brought all of us to this place of rest, sleep, and dreams.
I lie back comfortably into the chair. My eyes are closed and tearful. I sob with relief. We have made it. The cats nestle close; even the ghost cats are now palpable- and they joyfully lick the tears from my face. We will lay softly now. The sun is a warm blanket shroud. And we are forever blessed.
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613 posts 11/6/2009 5:40 pm |
This is lovely, Mr. P. Really nice to read on a Friday night. What an imagination you have. 
plagueofparadox replies on 11/6/2009 6:08 pm:
Thank you. I hope all is well with your world. |
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15529 posts 11/6/2009 6:47 pm |
It's beautiful, palpable prose. Really moving, and you have a way of rendering the atmosphere visualizable and the mood conveyable.
plagueofparadox replies on 11/6/2009 7:09 pm:
I just read you nice comment, then ran to the stove to save a grilled cheese sandwich (made it just in time). |
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8763 posts 11/8/2009 9:45 am |
pop, it's been wonderful to have you partake in the verbal interactions in this place. also a pleasure to know that there is a real person behind the words (who somehow missed the 7pc spankin' -- you were pretty anchored in your corner).
plagueofparadox replies on 11/8/2009 6:10 pm:
You spanked Buck? No pics posted?
Thank you for your kind words, LBD. You're a wonderful gal. |
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