—-Scavenger Hunt Saturday—-

My neighbor calls it the Catbird Seat.

This sweet spot on the second story veranda where we hover closer to Earth than to Heaven.

This high up place where boards sag, conversation is currency, trust is sacred and secrets pass like breath; exhaled and carried forth on trails of cigarette smoke; received and inhaled like air.

We look at each other sideways; still trying to puzzle the other out, but guards are lowered and the silences are comfortable so we take in the breeze and the view.

In this place we are more feline than avian; more gravity than gossamer; more likely to fall than to fly.

It is only two stories up, but high enough for everything below to become small and insignificant.
For me to feel haughty and judgmental; sublimely superior to those who pass unknowingly beneath my narrow eyed gaze.

Secrets hidden from those on ground level are glaringly obvious from my vantage point.

Designer purses spill open on passenger seats, revealing a jumble of receipts and generic lip balm.

Self conscious hands pull at hems while stiletto heels vacillate between the gas pedal and the brake.

It becomes a game from up here.

A game of counting cars (15.)

Of guessing the color of the next one to pass by (black.)

Of willing them to stop or go.

A game of being in control.

Until one old man slows as he passes by. Dares to look up.

Lifts his eyes to meet mine.

Calls my bluff, raises his hand, waves in my direction.

Smiles as my cheeks flush; my bravado crumbles. Drives away as I frantically try to regain my composure; hide away the jumbled bits and pieces of myself that have come tumbling out.

Watch as they catch on the breeze, will them to Heaven, watch as they are pulled down to Earth.