Disguised As Love

 

Here I am, on an airplane.

I’ve been flying throughout this pandemic, and haven’t really been worried about catching anything.

Until now.

Am I concerned about the guy across the aisle who’s hammered on bourbon, mask hanging off his ear, sneezing all over the people in front of him?

Nah.

How about the sludge on the underside of the tray table?

Not really.

I’m scared I’m going to get infected by what might be lurking in these pamphlets and newsletters, hidden in the inflight guides, the seat back pockets, and other opportune places down the entire row.

Why be scared, though, when I’ve already learned so much? I now know that if you’re a woman, your place is in the home, where your sole contribution, not even primary… sole… is raising godly children. Because that’s where your true gift and talent lies, you know. And if you don’t know, there’s a number you can call, because apparently they know, and they’ll be happy to tell you, and also take your contribution for their work to save marriages between same-race men and women.

See, I also discovered that gay people are bad. Who knew? And they’re the worst parents, if you ask God. Which I haven’t, so I’m stoked someone did for me, which I just read about in this literature.

There’s so much more I could tell you, but we’re about to land.

Here I am, on an airplane.

Where overreaching arms in the name of #staysafe can do nothing against perhaps a more lethal threat, immune to a vaccine, impervious to antibacterial wipes, and undeterred by a mask.

Hate, disguised as love.

 

Photo by Jakob Rosen on Unsplash   

What Do I Know

 

The little bird was sitting by the front door this morning when I came back in from feeding the horses. I figured she must have hit the glass front door and was either stunned or dying, because her only acknowledgement of my politely curious Labrador was a tiny half-step limp.

I watched her eyes momentarily open and immediately close as her already labored breathing grew heavier and heavier. She stayed motionless for the few minutes I crouched next to her, even when I stroked her back.

I knew she was going to die.

I wanted it to be on her terms, though. My logic wasn’t entirely thought out, because flying into a human’s glass front door hadn’t really been on her terms, either. But she was exposed and vulnerable to predators, so I carried her to the magnolia tree, where I set her down and covered her with a few larger leaves to discourage the two hawks already on patrol overhead.

I just went back outside to throw her small body away. The leaves rustled as I approached, and the little bird burst from the camouflage, flew up onto a magnolia branch, and then off into the cobalt sky.

I knew she was going to die.

But what do I know.

Photo by Andraz Lazic on Unsplash