“Cheese fries, ladies.” The waitress placed a large basket of cheesy goodness in front of us.
“Yes!” we both chirped in unison, then laughed, digging into the fries.
THIRTEEN2016
The Commune
Dream
We lay beneath a star-filled sky on a dark summer night, together as a family. We joined as a group to chant and meditate, basking in Mother Nature’s beauty and bounty. Brother Jim was certain we would be able to see Aquarius tonight in the southern sky, which would be a treat because it wasn’t always possible by its dimmer stars. Each of us sat upon our light gray cotton sleep sacks and marveled at the scene above us; even though Aquarius hadn’t been spotted yet, we welcomed her appearance, chanting in harmony with our fellow family members.
Sunny and I pushed our sleep sacks together to create a comfortable space for us to take pleasure in the night together. The hot, humid mid-July night surrounded us, drips of sweat coming from our bodies no matter how little activity we did, or how few clothes we wore. This time of year, everything felt alive around us, vibrating with energy and fervor. Sunny and I were no exception.
It was hard to remember a time when I felt more alive than this, in the heat of the night, chanting with my brothers and sisters, beside my woman, her heartbeat the same as my own, her sweaty body writhing against mine as we chanted. No, this moment in time proved the magical intensity and action of Listening Lark. I wasn’t only living life, I was feeling life, experiencing life. The way a person is intended to do so.
I was life.
Sunny had been angry at me earlier in the day. We’d argued over Moonbeam, one of my former lovers. Sunny hadn’t known we had been together, months ago, before I even met Sunny, and now Sunny didn’t want the turquoise necklace made by Moonbeam.
I loved to see that necklace on Sunshine Lotus though; it reminded me of the first time we met at the farmers’ market. As if the heavens had opened and my fantasy girl appeared among the masses of folks shopping for cantaloupes and ripe tomatoes. When she put that turquoise necklace on, it hung perfectly between her lovely breasts encased in a form-fitting black tank top. I knew she would be mine. Beyond just physical attraction, which vibrated through my body, it was as if lightning had struck, and nothing mattered except her, and me being with her.
We had a long discussion. Moonbeam and I had a strictly platonic relationship now and that is how it would stay. I did not, and would not, want anything else. In fact, Moonbeam was now one of Brother Jim’s women. Reminding her of this took away Sunny’s worries about her and changed her mind about the necklace.
I may be a dreamer, but I can be very persuasive when I want to be, and today I was rewarded with Sunny’s love and trust.
An honor I would always cherish.
FOURTEEN2023
Aimee
I placed two more egg cartons into the refrigerated case at the store and closed the door. I was careful to monitor every inch of the store for any oddities, like strange bags of dates. Luckily, they hadn’t appeared again. Hopefully, things would stay that way.
After finding the turquoise necklace inside my house, I had trouble calming my racing mind. It was one thing finding the dates at the store, but knowing this person had been in my house, in my bedroom going through my things, made me sick.
And scared.
Brother Jim wasn’t someone you messed around with. He was a scary guy. I wished I knew why he was here now. And I couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t simply confront me because that was his style. I didn’t understand any of it. I found myself constantly scanning faces of people in town, searching for Jim, but unsure what I’d do if I saw him.
Thoughts lingered in my mind, the same constant thoughts that plagued me for a long time. I didn’t want to make any plans, not yet. I didn’t fully know what I was dealing with at this point. I thought I’d left all of this behind me years ago. Why would my past seek me out now?
I went back to the box I’d brought from home and took out the quarts of blueberries, more strawberry jam and blueberry muffins I’d baked the night before. I even had a few onions and potatoes to add to the abundance of tomatoes, carrots, sweetcorn, and cucumbers. My little garden was flourishing, and it gave me a wonderful feeling of satisfaction.
When I was a girl, my mother planted a garden every year and I always helped her plant the seeds and the small plants. I loved putting my hands in the dirt, pressing into the life-giving soil and gathering the fruits of our labor after a few months of growth. It was like a kind of miracle to get food to sustain your body from planting a simple seed. I enjoyed all stages of its growth from seed to harvest.
When my parents died, I forgot about gardening. I forgot about everything. I went to live with Aunt Lou, and she tried to help me, but she didn’t understand. And neither did I.
I rediscovered the love of Mother Earth and all its bounty a couple years later. The growth, the freedom, the love, the ability to just live in the moment, only the here and now. Such a tranquil existence. Until it wasn’t.
I shook off my uncomfortable thoughts. The truth was, for so long I could never imagine living a life like the one Archie and I were creating in Poplin. Living a simple life, but a real one, with boundaries, trust, and room to grow and expand. A grown-up life. This was a life I never realized I wanted until I could see it in my grasp. I wouldn’t allow anything, or anyone, to take it from me.
The front door opened, and John Larabe walked in.
“Hello, John,” I greeted in a friendly tone.
“Hi, Aimee. I told you I’d stop in sometime,” he replied, with a smile.
“You sure did,” I said, adding the blueberry muffins, individually wrapped, to the display.
“Those look really good,” he remarked. “I’ll take four of those.”
“Okay, I’ll put them by the register,” I said. “Just take your time and look around.”
“Sure,” he replied.
I busied myself with the muffins and then tidying up my boxes and bags from the checkout area, moving them to the back room. I washed my hands in the bathroom sink and went back out to arrange my jams on the shelf.
“Nice store,” John remarked. He added a quart of blueberries, carrots, and two jars of strawberry jam to the muffins already sitting on the counter. He pointed to a bench that sat toward the front of the store. “Who made that?”
“Archie. The previous owners of the farm left some woodworking equipment behind in the barn, so he started making benches. He used to help his grandpa with woodworking projects quite a bit. They came out well. We have two on our front porch, and two in the barn. I thought I’d bring it in and see if it sells.”
John walked over to the bench and lifted the price tag. He nodded. “I’ll take it. He did a nice job on it.”
I nodded and was going to say something but stopped. John’s attention had diverted to something outside. He walked over to the front window and stared. While he was distracted, I stared at him. I understood why Robin didn’t want to date him, even beyond the tractor talk. There was something judgmental about him, unnerving, even though it wasn’t something that came through in an obvious fashion, but rather a vibe, an energy I felt from him. A feeling that settled over you when you didn’t particularly like someone, but are not sure why, certainly not for a reason you could state. I didn’t trust him.
“What’s going on outside?” I asked.
John shrugged. “Oh, nothing. Just someone I wanted to talk to, but I’ll catch up with them later.” He walked up to the checkout counter.
“Okay, so you want the bench; that will make Archie’s day,” I said, walking over to the register. I rung up the rest of his purchases.
“Tell him it will be sitting on my front porch,” John said.
“Oh, I will,” I replied.
“So, did you and Robin have a good time Friday night?” he asked, his gaze squarely on me.
“Oh, yeah, we had fun,” I said. “The food was good. I had the chicken marsala.”
“Yes, that is good there,” he agreed. “Maybe when Robin and I go out again, I’ll take her there.”
I nodded, unsure of how to respond. I placed his groceries in a paper bag. He swiped his card, and I handed him his bag and receipt.
“Thanks for stopping in; do you need help with the bench?” I asked.
“Nope, I got it.” He walked over and easily picked it up.
“Great, enjoy the rest of your day.”
