Roadway

Dear Levi,

I lost my voice completely as the infection moved from my throat and ears down into my lungs. Not even a whisper, a whimper, a sound. I showed up to work speechless, literally, unsure what to do. Brad laughed and then looked so sorry for me. He found doc work I would help out with, so I spent the morning boring through legal paperwork highlighting policies that would be beneficial for the new team members joining us on the floor this month, then shadowed a few calls with my neighbor, Heather, the streamline beast. I drank hot tea with spices and cream like my life depended on it, but my voice was gone without a trace of return. At noon, Brad shook my hand and sent me home for the day. I was useless at work.

Part of me was relieved. Although I feel better, I don’t feel like I’m dying and in pouring agony, I am aware my body is behaving strangely. I’m gaining weight, I still can’t sleep enough to push back the fatigue, and I have no appetite for anything except sugar. My voice just checked out on me. A weak, rattling cough is working its way into my chest. And I find my attention wandering, especially in the morning getting ready for work. I stand in front of my closet and look for a comforting mix of corderou and cashmere and… I get lost in thought about nothing until my alarm blares I’m late for work. Again.

I drove home not the least bit sleepy but so very tired in my head. I knew I would go straight to bed and try to kick this infection once for all.

Along the drive, I crossed into the airport district and the rolling hills made the ride more fun. I loved this part, right next to home. To my right, I passed the Warr Acres library I’d never noticed before, a Washington green structure of faded wood boards and cozy windows. To the left, the Forty Day for Change activist were camped on the edge of the road with their signs against abortion. I honked several times in support, and they waved at me.

The sunlight was streaming from an whimsical blue sky, white clouds like sheep on fields rolling across the vista. The trees were blowing merrily in the brisk breeze, laughing at the cars flashing by it seemed, shaking themselves in the vigor of autumn. The sunlight was perfect for the early afternoon, sweet and simple and restful as it splashed through my front window. KayLove played across the radio, and for a minute, I forgot I was sick.

A funny sight grabbed my attention. Up ahead, the road way was winding down the hill and through the trees and there were… papers in the road? White, curling papers freshly lost. Bouncing and swirling and skittering across the road for two blocks, leading the breeze on a merry chase as they pirouetted around the cars and spun circles in the air before landing gracefully on the curb. Hundreds of papers, sprinkled here and there down the road, like a fantastic trail of crumbs that led Hansel and Gretel home.

I wanted to stop and take a picture, but wasn’t sure the view would be the same from the side of the road. Standing in traffic to try to capture the merry little white sheets didn’t seem very prudent, either, so I just drove along, looking left and right, wondering what business man threw his brief case out the window in despair, or what office building lost a file out the window to the breeze, or what school child threw away their homework in cheery disregard.

I’d never seen anything like that, on this autumn day, with the big white clouds in the blue sky and trail of white papers dancing down the roadway ahead of me, leading back back to Lyrewood Lane. It was such a pretty picture, I wanted to share it with you. I hope, I hope, I hope, that today is a good day for you, sweet prince. I miss you here.

Your star,

Rigel