Hands to the Universe

meeting those who:
open eyelids
encourage expression
cause that feeling of comfort inside, that feeling that is so rarely is sparked these days.

thanks.

Linger On

It was somewhere along the route between Ithaca and White Plains where we stopped at an old, run-down gas station. The air conditioning in our silver outback gave the false hope that the atmosphere was cooling- that my things weren't going to stick together when I exited the car. With the opening of the door, I was confronted with the brick wall of humidity, and reality sunk into my pores. I entered under the sign that read "Country Store" and gave the girl working at the counter a slight smile. This was the kind of country store that smelled of beer and stale cardboard, where the candy packages are coated with a shallow layer of dust. I patrolled the candy isle; halloween theme peanut butter cups, "limited edition" starbursts whos limit was much too long ago. I chose the sweet&sour gummie lifesavers because they looked interesting, took a water bottle from the refrigerator, and payed the girl $2.61. My Dad was in the distance of the parking lot, slumped with low spirits as he has been since his accident. I sat on the cracked picnic table and allowed my lungs to fill with the heavy air, thinking about all that dusty candy in the Country Store. What happens when we, ourselves, become dusty? Even if our package is outdated and expired, can't we still be sweet and satisfying underneath? I don't want to be a limited edition, something that will soon be of interest to no one.

I returned to the car and basked in the fresh air conditioning, as it dried up all my reality. Back on the road, moving from point A to point B. 'Lingering on' as life often does, accumulating dust until our time here expires.