still writing

She has three fingers and one thumb on each hand — just like a cartoon. Her Maker took shortcuts with her, it seems. There are other ways she is not of us, her hair is too white; her skin, too dark. The gray eyes are some compromise of extremes.


When I need a view well outside of myself, I go to her. Nothing like an alien perspective to put things into context. I don’t think she is alien as in from another planet, but she does give that other worldly vibe. Regardless, she sees things, and I am coming to believe that I am blind. I see only what I expect to see.

Maybe I make the world each day as I imagine it. She’s outside of the imaginings, so she can say, “No, today the sky is the color of steel. You only think it is copper. It is not the time for soft metal.”

That she knows I think the sky is steel is enough to earn my respectful attention.

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