Elle was drifting in and out of sleep, a dreaming and half-awareness,
as she in her boyfriend’s car, coming back from a show in Nashville.
She watched the stars blur and whirl and smear across the black sky,
the galaxies become whirls and wheels like the whirls in her father’s
thick brown beard when she was a little girl.
She saw lights blink and flash, and the ones that didn’t twinkle she thought
she remembered were planets, distant in the cool and endless night.
She wondered if any life was there, was looking out across the blackness
to this little blue world, hoping or wishing or dreaming, were they with the
ones they loved in their own cool nights.
The singers music, the singer they had seen, continued to play slow and low and
quiet on the car’s radio, melancholy and loving, and Elle smiled, and let the emotion
rush over her dreams like the waves on a distant and warm shore, carrying her away
into deeper places. A female voice, the only voice she wanted to hear singing, telling
of lost love and an ache that was sweet in it’s sting. She would be 20 come April, and
she knew she was be carried into those deeper places.
Awake or half-asleep, she touched the stars, and they were warm and gentle to her
fingers, and there was no need to breathe for in this vision she was an angel and a
glorified body, and all that old frailty and corruption and constant need was not hers
here. Endless and alive these worlds were, all that could be dreamed was in being,
in this lost place.
Home. Her boyfriend shook her shoulder. She roused and she was human and flesh
and a young woman again, her stomach growling. She turned and hugged her boyfriend
and picked up her purse that was lain in the floorboard at her feet, and got out of the car
and walked to the little house where she lived with her parents. Before going inside, she
turned back to her boyfriend, and blew him a kiss.
The deeper places were coming, and she would be carried by the tide into them.