INTO THIS DEEP

You can sit all day and look out your window. Well, okay, only some people can do that. It is a very small majority of the majority. The word majority shouldn’t even be attached.

It isn’t many. That is simple enough.

Anyway, It is the best view you have ever viewed. It cannot be any more perfect. Well, I guess losing my son makes me feel like I am not allowed to say that. That is a gift that will never be given to me in this world. So, yeh. My view is pretty neat. Tall cedar trees touched golden by the slow setting sun of summer. Thin prairie grass just sways enough to make it poetic. Though, I do not live on a prairie. Just needs to be mowed.

And my feathered friends, the birds, are hopping and skipping over the boards on my deck. Now cooling because it was in the shade, hiding in the long shadows of the end of day. They search for some seed that has not yet been given for some days now.

It is seven o’ clock pm. And the only sound is the air conditioner near the closed window. And the electric fly catcher that once in a while makes a sound like eggs frying in a pan. But offers no pleasing smells of a great day ahead. It sits almost nearby. Perched oddly at the edge of my printer. Had to be there.

When I experienced the first Spring in my new manufactured home. Not sure I need to call it that, all homes are manufactured somehow. But, I guess you feel guilty you do not have a “real” home. That idea was first hatched I believe, when we were not bold enough to fight back.

“Nice place” says the dry voice. “but it isn’t a real home” small eyes looking up at the judgement cast. A large knuckle rasps against a corner. And at night when you are trying to fall asleep, curled in a bed you felt so proud to be in. Suddenly felt, unsafe. Not real. Borrowed. Thrifted.

That’s my mind. I do not apologize. It is free roaming like my rabbit.

Back on topic, my home. it was suddenly invaded by clouds of flies. Must had been 8 fly catchers hanging sticky from the ceiling, and one off the chandelier. And they were all full. You got a brief flash of hope when you had seen only seven that day. But it was brief. And they would return, like dark spirits with wings. There was something odd going on. Pretty sure there was some trapped ‘manufactured home’ male in the attic. That someone forgot about as they dropped the roof on top and rolled it out onto the highway to my residency.

Well, perhaps not. But, it was odd. And frustrating. Embarrassing.

I am happy to say now, if we do have a fly in the house, they won a free ticket to sizzle town. Anyway, all that to say. I have a bug catcher inside my house. And I am not ashamed.

But, that view out my window. That’s heaven.