A Vignette of a Man on a Mission to meet his Mate
COVID-19 is a vicious disease and as ephemeral as smoke. There isn’t any social distancing at the airport. Oh yeah, people start out 6 feet or 2 meters apart or so, and then all efforts fall apart with kids underfoot, cantankerous libertarians, confused idealists, families freaking out over minor technoapocalypses such as all their flight information seemingly vanishes from their smartfones between cybercracks in the wifi, officials in uniform interrupting and waving their arms ever whicha way, clouds of shampoo and sweat and coconut pomade and invisible floating parasites including vast hordes of invisible killer cooties, i.e. invasive novel coronaviruses. We’re at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, too. I’m traveling solo, and I am in the company of fellow bipedal social mammals.
Wow, a whiff of sage from someone somewhere lingers in the air triggering flashback memories to explorations of Washington Desert Coulee Country.
Anxious people grow more fearful of missing their flights or keeping their jobs. They strain and push out in all directions beyond social distancing markers on the floor and lean over human fencing straps as if searching for … God?
God has been talking to me, and after decades I finally choose to listen.
Calm and anxiety struggle within me as I surf deep emotions to fly out to meet in person with the woman whom I’ve quickly grown to love in a little more than the span of a month. My life is changing rapidly. I feel it. For the first time in my life I am in a romantic life partnership with someone who fully accepts me as I am, allows me to fully accept her as she shows up, and who goofs and kids around with me like a fellow comic doofus. There isn’t any tiptoeing around broken eggshells. Raw vulnerability allows for transparency, authenticity, and, yes, gratitude. Faithlyn and I move with an ease and grace neither of us has ever experienced before. God says, “Go,” and so I go. “Drive,” God said again. So I fly to Richmond, Virginia with a layover in Charlotte, North Carolina. Fate awaits as the woman I love plans our destiny together with me. God is already engaged, and we welcome the Divine One in, and so it goes, and goes all the way.
Growing swarms anxious individuals ever more fearful pile up inside the airport terminal we all move together in fractal-generated waves of human herding, cursing & questioning behind our masks, listening to muffled echos no HOH person can possibly unnastan but hey sunshine falls thru thick glass into the waiting areas where we allow ourselves to be corralled & parceled out in packages of moving flesh I am agog at a calm White mama pushing a gigantic stroller with a kid who can clearly walk with a wee baby boo napping in front as her husband hauls 2 car seats behind him on a little foo-foo dolly boo. Airline woman in straight blonde hair tinged with silver darts over in her sky blue mask. “Need a stroller tag, ma’am?” she asks. “Yes, please,” the mother replied.
William Dudley Bass
Monday 27 July 2020
Friday 31 July 2020
Seattle, Washington
USA
Cascadia
Sol
Copyright © 2020 by William Dudley Bass. All Rights Reserved by the Author & his Descendants until we Humans establish Wise Stewardship over and for our Earth and Solarian Commons. Thank you.