101 Words

His parachute did not open. He knew it would not open. He was going close to 300 miles an hour, that was what it felt like. The air screamed past filled with the scent of popcorn, oil, and perfume. He could see the ground approaching fast. He tried to picture his wife’s face—the demeanor that made the expected always new and fresh. She spiritually inherited every single moment. His car finally reached the end of the drag strip and hitting dirt it immediately flipped into the air. It was then that he heard a bang. He floated down to earth.

It was so quiet there. As they paddled their canoe in the early evening remote wilderness of northern Minnesota, Jack, his daughter Stephanie, and his niece Ashley talked softly. Jack looked up and saw three deer standing on shore between the trees. “Look, there’s deer over there,” he said to the girls. They gaped and said, “Aww…”

***

The vegetation in this part of the forest was delicious. SpottedFawn-shorttail snorted a thought, “Mmm, yes MotherLove-White-Front-Feet, green growth from down low fills my needs within.” MotherLove purred her agreement, looked up, and using wispy nostril breaths whispered, “Look, there’s humans floating over there.”

Even though we agreed I’d work until my 9th month, I activated my maternity leave and waddled home early today. I want cribs, and curtains, and tiny booties…want my back rubbed, my feet massaged…to read parenting magazines and nap with my Kindle™.

The lights are on in the kitchen. I hear noises upstairs. I go up, and there you are with him, hard and lunging, sweaty and ecstatic—like I wanted you to be with me.

“Just friends,” you’d said. I knew better.

I wanted him, too, the way I’d wanted you—before I knew you wanted each other.