Oil On Canvas: A True Story

I have a story to relate. This is a story best served with a little history but I will not be providing it. That history is far too personal. Suffice it to say I have a "guest" in my home. Let me say that I completely fucking hate our "guest". It will be noted that this individual is in my home against my will. That should be enough setup.

This evening, late afternoon really, I became so distraught via my loathsome boarder that I slipped on my shoes and walked straight out my front door and into the street. I live in a sleepy, elderly, residential neighborhood and knew that a stroll would be calming. In the very least it would be a reprieve from my tormentor. As I marched up the street, which, coincidentally, is also up a rather steep hill, I was not really soothed.

Passing quaint, cozy house after quaint, cozy house I still fumed. As I passed the peaceful denizens of some I began to wonder if they could sense my anger. Could they see it in my movements? Could they feel it hanging in the torrid air around me? With these thoughts still on my mind I was nearing the next driveway when I nearly jumped. I had come very close to a young woman blending into the bright summer scenery and not even noticed. She stood a the edge of the street, straight and still, an eager expectation betrayed by her pose. She wore a pink sun dress and white heels. As I drew closer she turned, a little surprised herself, and said hello. She was pale but looked kind, her head wreathed in boisterous copper. She had a white motorcycle helmet clutched keenly in her hands. As I nodded and returned the greeting my anger evaporated.

A little further down the road I realized that I felt entirely calm. I reflected on the beautifully different character I had just beheld. It crossed my mind that I should return to thank her but I thought better of it. she had been a wonderful picture and would be best unaltered. I began to wonder just for whom she waited. I kept my eyes forward as I waited, would he appear? A moment later I heard it, a small engine. Speeding down the road toward me was a woman on a white scooter, wearing a colorful camisole and a silk scarf flying from her neck like a pennant. As she disappeared around the slowly curving road I laughed. It amused me to no end to see so obviously who it was that would meet the girl in the sundress. I thought it must be a relatively frequent event to necessitate her possession of a helmet.

As I drew up to my house again I felt collected, tranquil. I had a contentment in my soul after that glance into another life. I had been privy to a single point in space time, one to which no one else had borne visual witness. It seemed the dimmest telescope view of a distant star.