Driving Ma Crazy

Ma wanted to get out of the house and do a little shopping, so Pa drove Ma to downtown Kansas City. The plan was that he would drop her off in front of Macy’s Department Store and pick her up again there at precisely 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Pa had some errands that he needed to run, including dropping in on some friends that he liked to keep up with. The plan was specific and foolproof. They had pulled this off repeatedly in the past and there was no reason to think that it wouldn’t work today.

And so, they each went their separate ways. Pa stayed to have lunch with Luke and Brenda who mentioned that Jerry was laid up in the hospital with a broken leg. So, he spent a few hours with his old friend Jerry before hurrying off to catch up on his errands. He needed to buy a replacement headlamp for the car, two pounds of 8-penny, nails, a couple of shirts for himself and a scarf to give Ma on their anniversary, just two days from now. He congratulated himself on his thoughtfulness and consideration for the woman he loved.

Essay: Psychic travels in my otherwhere

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Psychic travels in my otherwhere

From the book: Chum for Thought: Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters by David Satterlee

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Chum For Thought:
Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters

Psychic travels in my otherwhere

I have always enjoyed hiking, usually alone, in the woods. Twice now, when I had the chance, I have moved to the mountains of Western North Carolina. My wife and I purchased our present home because it was isolated and out of view of other houses. We cherish our “hole in the woods.” I could walk out the back door and follow paths, or just my nose, for miles. These woods are my comfort and respite from the anxiety, noise, and stress of living in cities.

Years ago, while searching for peace, I read a recommendation to create a detailed, imaginary, inner place of quiet refuge. Sitting down with a sketch pad, I developed a plan. It was filled with resources that I could only imagine. It has been my private safe place now for many years. It is always ready and available, but has to be approached methodically. I have never taken anyone there with me.

I am walking, slightly uphill, along a path. It may be in the rolling hills of Kentucky along the Appalachian Trail. It is late spring but the morning air is still tart. The trail is well-trodden and about 4 feet wide. There is enough room for two people to pass without crowding or having to pause to acknowledge the other. The path is densely lined so that no horizon is visible past this tunnel through the trees. Last season’s leaves still mulch the way, sliding gracefully ahead to an infinite destination. 

Every footstep is muted, the birds are hushed, no breeze disturbs the cathedral trees. Every step is comfortable and smooth. My small daypack seems weightless. The resolute scent of wild mint lifts the feet, the heart, and the spirit. A small squirrel watches from four paces off the way and is