008/100 aka 148/365

THE FUTURE AS DISPLAYED IN THE STOREFRONT WINDOW DOWNTOWN
Word Count: 365

It made us all wonder, clustered around the small screen in the window of Merganser’s Fine Art, Electronics and Hot Air Balloons. Snatches seen between elbows and hips, or the seashell of an ear. It was the future as we’d have to accept it, replacing our Chevys and Hyundais with capsules that only came in one shade of chrome.

I went home with the weight of the years on my head, thinking of circles that spun out from the splash of our birth and the skipping shores reaching back to contain them. Walls mentally made out of memory bytes and war-weary wishes that blew away in dandelioned winds.

My plan had always been to RV camper it across the expanse of mountains and fields from one end of the land to the other. With Cherie in the passenger seat pouring hot coffee out of a thermos and holding out peaches and plums that kept us both regular. It was the Great Grey-Haired American Dream. Cherie died one morning after making our breakfast, washing the dishes, and decluttering my things off the table. We’d just put a down payment on an RV.

I picked at the block of lasagna with its still-frozen heart. I sipped at the glass of cheap wine. I read through a brochure that offered me all I would need to enjoy my retirement and clicked through the numbers to see what it cost. Package #3 was the best I could afford; a bit small, a bit close, and depressing as hell. I went out on the back porch with the bottle of wine and looked up at the night sky gleaming bright with chrome stars. It had looked the same once to my seven year-old eyes.

There are movers and shakers, givers and takers, and most like me, just sliding through. We laid claim to a small patch of grass with a house made of matchsticks and spring flowers that popped up through the lawn. We thought we did everything right. We had Daniel Boone minds and Kerouac hearts.

I fell asleep dreaming of Cherie and miles of black highways and when I woke up, we were there.