Looking up and within
One for the events. One for sleeping in. One for the visits. One for time alone. One for the books. One for the TV series. One for the sweltering heat. One for the breeze. One for the hobbies. One for fun. One to while away the hours. One tightly scheduled. One for road trips. One for staycations.
Two would be nice. I only get one.
I’ll get to it anytime. I should get to it anyway. I like to think of days in tens of thousands. So many moons. So many rains. I am coming to learn there are only so many. In the steady ticks of time’s constant march is the possibility that the hands may stop. Epochs end.
A winding ride on a bodaboda brought me to the vehicle. As I sat staring at the passing traffic, I heard the drone of an improvised sub woofer–and the electric guitar.
I heard the lyrics before I heard the song. They were being sung by a fellow student between lessons in a garage. The student’s tempo was off though.
Did I ever think I’d be this age? In the back of a car not my own? In the back listening to old songs? Did I ever think I’d wish to walk? On a large soft grass lawn? Did I ever think I’d have no watch and stare at my phone all day?
Not everything, I could ever want. Everything, I need and quite a bit more.
They were both black. I saw the first through the window early in the day. As the van floated past, it started unblinking from the concrete trench it had been driven into. I was daydreaming in my way back when I heard someone ask what car it was. It glided by the van: noiseless, lithe and shiny. The eyes of the passengers turned towards it moments before it purred and sprinted into the distance and out of sight.
Where I stood, beneath the lights, the asphalt was cool. The glow of red and green flashed through the beams of lights staring ways away.
I carried mine. It strained my back. It’s weight comforting. When the cube made the turn, I didn’t have to reach.
As I walked, I thought:
Maybe I could make it big. I could have houses in city suburbs, staff like a Residence Manager, and a fleet to whisk family and staff wherever.
Maybe I could have a Falcon 7X. Only fly private. Vacation on different continents.
Maybe I don’t want the attention.
Maybe I don’t need the fuss.
I like walking anyway.
I thought I had missed my ride. The thought of another walk down the hill to find other means drifted by on the back of a silver van. In the faint pre dawn light, it seemed like a long walk. On asphalt all the way with an open trench centimetres to the left. A trip that could actually go faster.
A call confirmed that the ride was a minute away.
The trip was supposed to be short. A left+a right-another left, another right-around a roundabout and a left. I should have known. The traffic seemed unusually light: a couple of cars, a cluster of motorcycles. The valley before the roundabout was clear. I could almost believe my luck. Then it wasn’t.
As if drawn by a magnetic field all manner of vehicles were squeezed together. The roundabout was clear. The roads feeding into it were not. I watched construction workers climb up scaffolding at a construction site nearby. I fled into the realm of daydreams.
An engine grunted and all the motorcycles buzzed….
I watched a video about ultra marathoners recently. I also feel that I should do more to make it to 5,000 steps a day. I probably do more. It’s just that I have not taken the trouble to count. It would help a great deal of I did.
The first runner sped by as I waited for my morning ride underneath an umbrella and disappeared round a corner without losing a step. The second runner stumbled past me on my walk home. The trainers dragged through the dirt and squealed on the tarmac, the body leaned forward to hold up the head, the arms barely moved. The lungs snatched air into a folded chest.
The walker saw this and continued walking.
The commuter van sailed through the intersection moments before the rain started to fall. The door slid shut. I sat next to the window and watched the rain sweep the tarmac.
The engine droned. The world rushed past. The commuter van faded…..
Into a plush carpeted office with a massive transparent desk. I walked to the ceiling to floor windows. There it was. A city in the trees. A couple of high rises peeking through the canopy. Birds chirping. No sounds of traffic. I slid across the room and into my seat. I turned too fast and came close to cheek to pane….
The commuter van had stopped. It was stuck in traffic. The pane right of my head still rattled.
Le Ciel est Bleu 