An Angel When You Least Expect One

It was going to be a big day in more ways than one. My daughter was going to take my granddaughter to the small southern Quaker college she had been accepted to.  Oh, there was the usual problem of scraping up the last few pennies for tuition, but that morning my daughter tried to start her car and discovered she needed a new battery.  That required a little later start.

Then, in the middle of the night they had to pull off the highway with what turned out to be a flat tire.  It was pitch black, although crickets could be heard singing in the forrest.  One car passed and didn’t slow down.  Several minutes later the same car appeared, and pulled over.  It was the angel, on her way to her house 10 minutes away.  Sizing up the situation (my granddaughter probably in tears), the angel phoned her husband who was fast asleep in bed.

I guess two angels were involved, not one, since he arrived without complaint and changed the tire.  My crew arrived at their motel at 4 a.m., but in time for the next day’s college entry.

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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4 Responses to An Angel When You Least Expect One

  1. rothpoetry says:

    It is good to know there are still some good people around to help!

    Like

  2. Wonderful!! So grateful for you and your family. Why don’t you add a haiku and link up to Dverse’s haibun Monday? Crickets are featured.

    Like

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