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Cherub
Silence
“The throne of time”
Don’t you just love the feeling you get when you’re riding a bicycle downhill on a hot ass summer day?
“Is a kingly thing”
Well, let me just say, I really do! I was on the way to the grocery store, legs pumpin’ and teeth showin’. My Walkman headphones were blasting T- Rex’ Monolith, filing my ears with shades of lilac, gold and bright scarlet. Despite the effort I had put forth trying to contain it, my hair whipped wildly around my head like the tentacles of a squid after prey under my wide brimmed straw hat. I had learned to enjoy the simple things in life. They were all I had.
“From whence you know”
The warm sun on my face, the Spanish moss hanging from the big ancient oaks, the dirt roads and the fields of grass, they were all a part of me in that moment.
“We all do begin…”
I didn’t worry about the dust gathering on my tapestry shoes or the rocks finding their way under my soles, I just enjoyed the moment. My old Schwinn Hollywood that had been my mother’s before might have been crappy but it was one of my prized possessions. I took in all the sights my hometown had to offer, some slightly yellowing fields, cows, big houses trimmed with wraparound porches and the porches trimmed with climbing plants, and some more cows.
The rural landscape shifted from the fields and old farmhouses to the small businesses and cute little shops lining neat little sidewalks. The sidewalks were shaded by big knotty oaks and palm trees. The noon sunlight fell through the leaves of the trees and the branches kept a steady sway. It was one of the many things I had loved about the little town. It always seemed so calm. I smiled at a couple walking hand in hand, they were both wearing blue denim overalls and an elderly woman in an enormous church hat walking a white Great Dane. I passed a funeral home with tinted windows, the flower and balloon shop, and finally the pet store and there I was, the Shop Stop. It was literally the only grocery store within miles and miles….and miiiiiles. It was pretty sizable despite being in a small town in the middle of nowhere. It always smelled like citrus inside and the floor was always blindingly white and every employee wore a green apron and smiled real big whenever you made eye contact. Despite its pristine appearance, the Shop Stop always seemed to be overrun by large groups of parent-less children who would try to trip you when you weren’t paying attention and put groceries you had no intentions of purchasing in your cart. Even so, boy was I grateful, how did one go about buying provisions for a secret adventure without a grocery store? That’s right, I had begged my mother to let me pedal my way to the Shop Stop to buy ingredients for “a celebratory dinner” but in reality, I was buying my means of survival. I had decided that I would head out west. I’d buy a tent and move during the day and at night I’d sleep under the stars.
Every year starting on my sixth birthday I had received birthday money. It was always ten times the number of years I had been alive and I had saved every last penny. Unbeknownst to me, it was unusual for a child of six years to save instead of spending their hard earned birthday money on candy or toys which really seemed silly to me and oh how glad I was then. I had $1450 and a bit of paper I had written a rough check list on in my dress pocket and I was a girl, no, a woman, on a mission. After half haphazardly tying my bike to a parking sign outside of the store and pitching my Walkman into the basket on the back, I replaced my earphones with tassel ear plugs. They were perfect replicas of the one’s worn by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s that my mother had made for me last year and they were what kept me seemingly normal on outings such as these. I grabbed a basket and I stepped forward. The automatic doors opened like arms preparing for an embrace and I walked right into it.
The store was as I remembered it to be last I saw it three weeks previous. The floors glittered like the full moon, every tall shelf was packed high; canned fruits and cleaning supplies and carbonated sodas. Most of the schools had closed the following week and now there were groups of teenagers roaming many of the isles. There was a group of boys at one of the cash registers, mouth widened in silent laughter, they were buying around 50 rolls of tissue paper. I passed and aisle where two girls wearing tall chunky heels and modified denim vests stood comparing the claims of a few different brands of hairspray. They acknowledged me with a look of confusion. Despite the rare odd look, I liked it here. I liked being around other people. I loved seeing new things. It all reminded me that things did change. The world around me was real. I was real.
I pulled my list out of the pocket of my favorite dress, a black dress printed with lots of sunflowers that had belonged to my grandmother. The list read tent, lantern, sleeping bag, non-perishable food items. I would use the rest of the money as emergency and along the way food funds. Still, I had no idea what along the way was. Should I have a set destination? Would I ever turn around and come back home? Strangely, I hadn’t even thought about it. This was my first big act, my only diversion from the path and I hadn’t planned it. I have to say, I got a rush from the spontaneity and uncertainty of it all. I took my time and made sure to pick up necessary items and of course picked up some backup “celebratory dinner” groceries to support my story and by story I mean big fat blatant lie. Then, just as I began to develop a little pep in my step, something intercepted the contact between my shoe and the ground. This was one of those moments, you know, the one’s when everything seems to happen in slow motion. The girls with the hairspray lifted their eyebrows, their mouths turned into little o’s. A few guys with arms full of bags of pizza bites and Doritos pointed, their faces contorted into an expression that can only be described as ravenous amusement. Somewhere along the way down I lost one of my ear plugs, and then the other and I was bombarded by sounds-colors. Loud colors exploded before my eyes, dark carmines and chartreuse and mustard yellow and bright violent flashes of white and sharp black and then more carmine, and then, the whole world seemed as if it had started to shake, all of a sudden there were no colors, no people, no supermarket, just silence.
Don’t you just love the feeling you get when you’re riding a bicycle downhill on a hot ass summer day?
“Is a kingly thing”
Well, let me just say, I really do! I was on the way to the grocery store, legs pumpin’ and teeth showin’. My Walkman headphones were blasting T- Rex’ Monolith, filing my ears with shades of lilac, gold and bright scarlet. Despite the effort I had put forth trying to contain it, my hair whipped wildly around my head like the tentacles of a squid after prey under my wide brimmed straw hat. I had learned to enjoy the simple things in life. They were all I had.
“From whence you know”
The warm sun on my face, the Spanish moss hanging from the big ancient oaks, the dirt roads and the fields of grass, they were all a part of me in that moment.
“We all do begin…”
I didn’t worry about the dust gathering on my tapestry shoes or the rocks finding their way under my soles, I just enjoyed the moment. My old Schwinn Hollywood that had been my mother’s before might have been crappy but it was one of my prized possessions. I took in all the sights my hometown had to offer, some slightly yellowing fields, cows, big houses trimmed with wraparound porches and the porches trimmed with climbing plants, and some more cows.
The rural landscape shifted from the fields and old farmhouses to the small businesses and cute little shops lining neat little sidewalks. The sidewalks were shaded by big knotty oaks and palm trees. The noon sunlight fell through the leaves of the trees and the branches kept a steady sway. It was one of the many things I had loved about the little town. It always seemed so calm. I smiled at a couple walking hand in hand, they were both wearing blue denim overalls and an elderly woman in an enormous church hat walking a white Great Dane. I passed a funeral home with tinted windows, the flower and balloon shop, and finally the pet store and there I was, the Shop Stop. It was literally the only grocery store within miles and miles….and miiiiiles. It was pretty sizable despite being in a small town in the middle of nowhere. It always smelled like citrus inside and the floor was always blindingly white and every employee wore a green apron and smiled real big whenever you made eye contact. Despite its pristine appearance, the Shop Stop always seemed to be overrun by large groups of parent-less children who would try to trip you when you weren’t paying attention and put groceries you had no intentions of purchasing in your cart. Even so, boy was I grateful, how did one go about buying provisions for a secret adventure without a grocery store? That’s right, I had begged my mother to let me pedal my way to the Shop Stop to buy ingredients for “a celebratory dinner” but in reality, I was buying my means of survival. I had decided that I would head out west. I’d buy a tent and move during the day and at night I’d sleep under the stars.
Every year starting on my sixth birthday I had received birthday money. It was always ten times the number of years I had been alive and I had saved every last penny. Unbeknownst to me, it was unusual for a child of six years to save instead of spending their hard earned birthday money on candy or toys which really seemed silly to me and oh how glad I was then. I had $1450 and a bit of paper I had written a rough check list on in my dress pocket and I was a girl, no, a woman, on a mission. After half haphazardly tying my bike to a parking sign outside of the store and pitching my Walkman into the basket on the back, I replaced my earphones with tassel ear plugs. They were perfect replicas of the one’s worn by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s that my mother had made for me last year and they were what kept me seemingly normal on outings such as these. I grabbed a basket and I stepped forward. The automatic doors opened like arms preparing for an embrace and I walked right into it.
The store was as I remembered it to be last I saw it three weeks previous. The floors glittered like the full moon, every tall shelf was packed high; canned fruits and cleaning supplies and carbonated sodas. Most of the schools had closed the following week and now there were groups of teenagers roaming many of the isles. There was a group of boys at one of the cash registers, mouth widened in silent laughter, they were buying around 50 rolls of tissue paper. I passed and aisle where two girls wearing tall chunky heels and modified denim vests stood comparing the claims of a few different brands of hairspray. They acknowledged me with a look of confusion. Despite the rare odd look, I liked it here. I liked being around other people. I loved seeing new things. It all reminded me that things did change. The world around me was real. I was real.
I pulled my list out of the pocket of my favorite dress, a black dress printed with lots of sunflowers that had belonged to my grandmother. The list read tent, lantern, sleeping bag, non-perishable food items. I would use the rest of the money as emergency and along the way food funds. Still, I had no idea what along the way was. Should I have a set destination? Would I ever turn around and come back home? Strangely, I hadn’t even thought about it. This was my first big act, my only diversion from the path and I hadn’t planned it. I have to say, I got a rush from the spontaneity and uncertainty of it all. I took my time and made sure to pick up necessary items and of course picked up some backup “celebratory dinner” groceries to support my story and by story I mean big fat blatant lie. Then, just as I began to develop a little pep in my step, something intercepted the contact between my shoe and the ground. This was one of those moments, you know, the one’s when everything seems to happen in slow motion. The girls with the hairspray lifted their eyebrows, their mouths turned into little o’s. A few guys with arms full of bags of pizza bites and Doritos pointed, their faces contorted into an expression that can only be described as ravenous amusement. Somewhere along the way down I lost one of my ear plugs, and then the other and I was bombarded by sounds-colors. Loud colors exploded before my eyes, dark carmines and chartreuse and mustard yellow and bright violent flashes of white and sharp black and then more carmine, and then, the whole world seemed as if it had started to shake, all of a sudden there were no colors, no people, no supermarket, just silence.
♠ ♠ ♠
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