Ariel, My Dear, I Have Been Thinking Again

Ariel, my dear, I have concluded that distance is simply another human invention—one that is only narrowly more significant than the yo-yo, but slightly less important than a soup ladle.

To hell with distance.  I say we make a new invention.  We might call it “spontaneous togetherness.”  This is all based on sunrise, my hot tub, and the nighthawks.

Early this morning, I climbed into my hot tub and watched a cloudless sunrise blush against the starry night.  There, in the first light, nighthawks began to plunge from the cobalt skies.  I swear, Ariel, they appeared from nothing but empty space and came swooping down all around me.

Why can’t we do that?

Yesterday, I drove to an aspen grove high in the mountains above Alice Creek.  Once there, I found a log stretched across the understory and I sat watching the leaves spin like a million coins in a pine-scented breeze.  Naturally, I thought of you.

If I go there again, will you please find a way to fall from the sky and find me?

--Mitchell Hegman