Chapter Five
The next morning Luke was awakened by the loud cawing of crows. They always seemed as if in some argument or complaint that he could not translate. This morning that noise was not as annoying.
Outside sat two crows, one above the other on tree branches. The upper one spoke to its comrade below,
“Did you hear about that owl last night carrying off one of our baby brothers?”
His comrade answered, “I guess those gulls are not so bad after all. Maybe we squabble on the beach, but nothing like those cruel owls. Sneaky ones, they are. By the way, did you see that strange tree inside that guy's apartment?”
“Yes. I can see it now.”
“Well I came across one, just like that, years ago on the edge of a forest. I landed on its bright star hoping to get warm and I did. My respite was soon ended. It started to shake violently and threw me into the air. Some quick ‘winging’ set me on a straight course. I heard this ‘Whoosh’, turned around, and it was gone.”
The low branch comrade said,
"I tell you, a crow’s life is not easy. It's because we are not cute or colorful, I’m quite sure of that.”
Luke gave up any further attempts at sleep. He had awakened with an excitement like a shot of caffeine into his blood. My adventure starts today, destination unknown.
He jumped out of bed and stubbed a toe on the leg of a misplaced nightstand. While rubbing the toe he remembered his dad’s advice when learning to drive,
“Go slowly and pay attention.”
His father had said many hurtful words to Luke over the years, but Luke had never spoken against him. Those dark glaring eyes made sure of that. But, his father did have some good words about living, even though he may have tripped on his own advice and fallen into bad ways at times.
Luke cleaned up and then ate one of his filling breakfasts. When done he went and surveyed the pile of traveling stuff he had thrown on the floor last night. This is the proverbial ten pounds into a five pound bag. He focused and, step-by-step, took out only what was necessary and flung each item onto the bed. How many unforeseen events must I prepare for? I’ll wash cloths in motel sinks and buy whatever else may be needed while on the road. By one o’clock Luke was packed. He took the case out to the living room and stopped by the tree.
“Yes. A gull catches what it can fly into the air, no more than that. Dad’s advice again. Well tree, I’m going. I’ll be back. You seem self-sufficient. I hope.”
He left the bag, and as he went to the kitchen to clean up, turned to look at the tree. I wonder if that last comment was really a lie like cutting the strings and not wanting to look back. The tree maintained its usual way.
“You don’t seem disturbed by my leaving.” I guess that’s what I want. Wish there was an electric cord to yank out; cut your lights and be done with it.
Luke set the answering machine with a “gone fishin’” message, cleaned all the dishes, unplugged his computer, paid and stamped important bills, checked his date-book just in case, threw out the garbage and put the bills in the mailbox. At the last minute he texted Happy Birthday messages to a few friend. Then, one last hesitant message, “Just because we are divorced, we can still talk. See you in a few weeks Angie.” It was time to leave.
He stood outside by the car looking at his tree in the window. He almost let his desire turn to action. No. it would never fit in my car. He waved it a good-bye.
The engine turned over and coughed a bit. Good start of a trip, eh? Oh well.
And then sang out, “On huskies, mush! To the wilds.”
He and the car ambled about town and finally went up a ramp and onto the expressway. "Go slowly and pay attention” became his mantra. Maybe I don’t get it. Pay attention to what? Many aimless thoughts drifted in and out of his mind. His meditation instructor had advised to let them pass undisturbed.
After an hour of travel, he waved to the last of the suburban sprawl and shopping malls retreating in the rearview mirror. The Midwest countryside lay flat before him. He drifted past rectangular farm plots, the dark soil ridged by plows in the Fall. Light snows had blown across the ridges and been caught by the little peaks as many parallel white lines, giving a geometric quality to the landscape. There was the occasional cluster of trees; oaks scraggly against the sky. Then, the long winding lines of trees like sentries guarding the banks of flat-land river’s; cool watery veins snaking through the prairie and laughing at the Cartesian landscape of the farmers.
A far-off farm house and barn were resting within a grove of trees that provided shade in the summer and were now as bookmarkers through the winter. A distant town’s water tower stood like a monster rooster surrounded by its brood of frame houses, old Main Street shops, and backyard junk; always a resource for handy country folk for repairs and maybe sold in slow economic times.
Those sights were so far from his fast path of the super highway. They seemed unreal at such a distance, only seen clearly on the county roads traveled by the locals. Luke thought about speeding on the interstate. What may have been of real interest was far away. Distance, made him seem to go slowly past them, and yet, not know them. Where is paying attention? It is all so distant as to be nothing. I guess that is what super highways do. I don’t need to be shielded from what is between point ‘A’ and point ‘B’ when the line between them is full of possibilities.
“Food, Gas, Hospital” on a large sign swept past just before an exit. The order of those words brought a smiled. After twenty minutes the sun was bidding farewell. Why not? It’s almost dark anyway.
The car seemed relieved as he took the next exit ramp. It curved around with the stealth of a wild cat. Luke felt something was right.
His car headed west into the last glow of the day. Some instinct pointed him toward the darkest point on the now invisible western horizon, like a desire to drive into the stomach of a whale. The whale’s mouth, the night sky, was swallowing the endless prairie. Soon, the sun was making dawns and dusks elsewhere while the blackness of his clear sky was being released. There were pinpoints of distant suns in the night with some stray light off the highway behind him. Luke and the car became as one. He had named his car ‘Ginger” because of its tan color, and now began talking to it to avoid a subtle lonely feeling.
I am on an ocean bottom out here. He smiled at the thought. There was the occasional bright-eyed creature heading toward him, its radiant eyes quickly lowered as it recognized him or the one crossing his path; they meeting at an intersection and stopping in respect. On this ocean floor were the lights of a far-off town planted like some phosphorescent colony of deep-sea life. Luke experimented in this dark world, always looking for darkness with a single intriguing light. He turned onto small roads like a mouse exploring a maze. One led him miles to what slowly rose up to be Sea Anemone-like towers bathed in the orange cast of many lights and surrounded by eerie structures. They looked like some Queen creatures of this dark world. It was exhaling orange wisps against the darkness; creepy and surrounded by a chain link fence. Luke took a slow turn away from the nuclear power plant gate and retreated into the night. Looking back, with his mind’s-eye, he felt a fascination with that sight.
Well, go slowly. Then he let his foot off the gas pedal. There he was, floating along a narrow road at maybe ten miles per hour; alone, relaxed, warm and nowhere to go. This reminded him of an afternoon canoe trip with two friends. The current carried them along as they sat and watched the trees and the wildlife on the river bank. “Why paddle? The river was our guide.”
In time he turned down a gravel road. The crunching of the gravel underneath broke the night silence. Soon he saw a dim weave of white strands mixed with vertical darkness’s reaching to the stars. When closer, it became snow accents upon sleeping branches reflecting the light of his headlights and finally a long phalanx of tree trunks. The remainder of that light was lost out into the infinity of the prairie beyond. Luke stopped and carefully left the warmth of his car. He approach
ed what was an imagined mystery just beyond the sleeping giants. He timidly entered this line for several feet and then stopped dead in his tracks. The echoed sound of rushing water, lots of it, caught him. A stone at his feet was kicked ahead. It disappeared below and never was heard. Go slowly and pay attention. He could only imagine the scene. He felt all that water rushing, maybe thirty feet below, deep within earthen walls; cold, black and somehow exhilarating. What if he tempted the waters by entering further into the phalanx?
This experience was familiar to him. It was the fascination and the thrill of letting go into something dark, powerful and unemotional. He remembered a huge, abandoned Victorian mansion that he and some school friends past on the way to school. It was gray on winter days. The windows were broken and the black inside seemed unloved and daring someone to enter. He was drawn to it, but never knew why. What did it all mean? The Caribbean poster on his wall at work came to mind with its blue sky, green palms and warm sand. It pleaded its case and won. He backed out from the trees and returned to his car.
He wandered further down the road while loving the freedom and richness of this mysterious ‘ocean bottom’ in the winter’s night. Farms passed by, inviting him with their warm windows and his thoughts of real home cooking. A gurgle and a growl come from his stomach. He pictured food, light and even music. Even ocean divers have to come up for air.