Monday, August 11, 2014

The Fly of LAX

I slouch in a hard leather seat at a gate in LAX, bound for the Pacific Northwest to visit friends - something my husband and I did together every summer. Going alone this time seems more painful than expected. More weepy. More disorienting. More physicality of grief as the entire chest area feels leaden and soggy at the same time.

And then a tiny fly bounces past me, in between the computer screen and my tapping fingers. He is a wisp of a fellow, perhaps a gnat, and his movements seem slow and sluggish.

And then, miracle of miracles, my maudlin gestalt lifts as I observe this fragile creature lost in the caverns of an international airport. The chance of his ever breathing fresh air or feeding off real nature food is almost nil. I stop feeling sorry for myself. His fate seems much worse than mine.

How this little fellow arrived in such foreign environs remains a mystery, but I wish him well on his lonely journey through fast food restaurants and stale air. At least I will be able to deplane in the champagne breezes of a peaceful land.

3 comments:

  1. Aww Carole. You are such an inspiration to me. You remind me of the Dalai Lama and all the spiritual leaders who you and Michael have worked with in film. You are both made from the same cloth.
    I hope that little creature gets to follow you out...
    xxoo joan

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  2. I love this - Nina

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  3. Anonyme sans l'être vraiment, je suis, par le cœur, tous les jours avec vous, Carole.
    Evelyne Caron-Lowins ( ex-Positif )

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