Home Trip

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It was all right to hit the highway and head back to the city. On the rampway to route 45 he put on Dwight Yocum, A Thousand Miles from Nowhere. A driving song from one of 100 playlists in his cell phone.

The miracle fish was a joy to devour back at his campsite over the open flames. The dry pine he had turned into kindling sparked and snapped wildly before mellowing down to the perfect bed of coals. He kept the head on and ate the delicate meat with his fingers. The whole place reeked like Brown Trout. 

Bear were known to live in those areas of course, so he did his best to clean things up afterward. It was time to go home anyway. Still, he packed up and headed out looking over his shoulder fairly often just in case.

Later he smiled at how the days ruminations had met up with a profound example of his own contingency. If there had been no trout, he might've been on to slugs or snails or something even more disgusting. As it was, he had eaten well and was grateful and would take the experience back with him to remember where life truly comes from. Breath by breath and drink by drink and meal by meal .

Now back to the city and to the Uber job and bike route. And of course, Laura, with all of her enthusiasm. Getting in touch wasn't going to be a choice it was only a question of when.

When he stopped for gas at the Shell station, still an hour from his apartment, he took a second to check messages on his phone. There among several from family, one or two goofy ones from Perkins, was another from Laura. It was an image of a red Poppy in miniature.

She's honestly sending it to me, he said to himself… Like I need some reminding or something?

The only message just below the image of the bright red flower with its glistening, it's pure water droplets wobbling fresh at the edges of each petal… The only words were these: you mad at me?

Do you think so maybe? Like so many times before him in his life, something beautiful had emerged, spiritual and close to the heart. No wonder he felt her energy as intrusive. There were so many projects he'd tried to do with friends, of course, that never worked out. Collaborating – especially after a fair amount of pressure – never seemed to turn out well for him.

Creative inspirations are sacrosanct, he said, this time surprisingly out loud. He heard himself say it inside the Subaru which had now been filled with the aroma of Reese's peanut butter cup. Whatever's in the spiral came out of me… What's more – that it felt so divine, like such a sweet touch from God – –

Dammit! Why on earth did I ever open things up to the extent I did?

The picture was a gift from her. Fine. He should have never told her where it had taken him, should never have involved her in trying to discern what on earth to do with the experience… That was between him and God.

He shut off the music and cracked both of the windows and pressed his foot to the floor. He picked his thumbs at the corners only now wishing, although on his way back to an indoor way of being, he'd grabbed another pack of Marlboro Lights.

He picked up the phone to call his friend and tell him he was on his way to pick up Zoe.

Yes, he said to his friend. It was a great trip – I could stay out there for months, man.