Bohemian Avenue #14
I stood ankle deep in Minnehaha Creek along a sandy portion of the bank watching my sparrow girl splash water over herself. She had been delighted to be named Fern at my suggestion. I'm not sure why, but Fern seemed to occur to me automatically.
We had been walking the creek for at least an hour together. She would revert back to bird form once in a while to settle briefly in a tree or to poke around in some grass. At other moments she would gingerly take my hand and walk with me in her girl's form. Though neither of these changes seemed to last long, I thought perhaps she wanted to feel close to me. I confess I have become quite fond of her since our first meeting.
I heard her singing again this morning through the open windows. She doesn't visit me every day, but quite often, and hearing her this morning drew me to invite her to visit Minnehaha Falls and walk the creek to where it emptied into the Mississippi River. She smiled and told me she knew the place and said a little cryptically, “I'll show it to you, too.” I chalked up what she said as one of her cute little ways that made me smile, but I was in for a surprise!
As we walked toward where the creek emptied into the river, there were ledges of sandstone. Many people had carved their names and other words and images into the rock faces. At a point where the cliff seemed about forty feet up from the creek bank, there were wooden stairs to take you up into a more landscaped part of the park and within view of a Minneapolis residential area. It was here that Fern flew half way up the stairs and turned to urge me to follow.
At the top of the stairs, I found her standing at the edge of the cliff near the stairs. She held her hand over the expanse, turned to me and said, “Here is the way to another place--my home. Jump and come with me.”
“What? You know I can't fly.” I was standing next to her feeling my stomach clench as I considered the height.
Fern smiled and took my hand turning me away from the view. “Not fly, jump!”
“I could die jumping from here!” I suspected all my experiences with Fern had become a delusion and I was going to prove it by jumping to my death as soon as my delusion convinced what was left of my sanity.
She took several strides back from me “You won't die. Catch me!”
Before I realized, she had jumped into my arms. She was not heavy, but her momentum had pushed me back. I knew I was falling, but I couldn't believe how fast. It was taking too long and felt like the suspended rush of coming down the initial descent of a roller coaster. “I'll wake up in Heaven,” I thought, “if I don't crush this little girl in my arms from sheer terror…”
We had been walking the creek for at least an hour together. She would revert back to bird form once in a while to settle briefly in a tree or to poke around in some grass. At other moments she would gingerly take my hand and walk with me in her girl's form. Though neither of these changes seemed to last long, I thought perhaps she wanted to feel close to me. I confess I have become quite fond of her since our first meeting.
I heard her singing again this morning through the open windows. She doesn't visit me every day, but quite often, and hearing her this morning drew me to invite her to visit Minnehaha Falls and walk the creek to where it emptied into the Mississippi River. She smiled and told me she knew the place and said a little cryptically, “I'll show it to you, too.” I chalked up what she said as one of her cute little ways that made me smile, but I was in for a surprise!
As we walked toward where the creek emptied into the river, there were ledges of sandstone. Many people had carved their names and other words and images into the rock faces. At a point where the cliff seemed about forty feet up from the creek bank, there were wooden stairs to take you up into a more landscaped part of the park and within view of a Minneapolis residential area. It was here that Fern flew half way up the stairs and turned to urge me to follow.
At the top of the stairs, I found her standing at the edge of the cliff near the stairs. She held her hand over the expanse, turned to me and said, “Here is the way to another place--my home. Jump and come with me.”
“What? You know I can't fly.” I was standing next to her feeling my stomach clench as I considered the height.
Fern smiled and took my hand turning me away from the view. “Not fly, jump!”
“I could die jumping from here!” I suspected all my experiences with Fern had become a delusion and I was going to prove it by jumping to my death as soon as my delusion convinced what was left of my sanity.
She took several strides back from me “You won't die. Catch me!”
Before I realized, she had jumped into my arms. She was not heavy, but her momentum had pushed me back. I knew I was falling, but I couldn't believe how fast. It was taking too long and felt like the suspended rush of coming down the initial descent of a roller coaster. “I'll wake up in Heaven,” I thought, “if I don't crush this little girl in my arms from sheer terror…”
posted by praiseage at 5:05 PM
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