Might Have Been

Today I almost hitch-hiked all the way to Arizona. I saw a truck go by, wearing, like a banner, the Arizona Freight Lines name and I could almost see the golden grains of sand that clung, sun-hot and sticky to its sides. I knew if I had gone I would have felt those same hot grains against my skin as I made castles in the sun-scorched sand and rolled, and rolled and rolled from top to bottom of a dune without a stop to brush my dress or tidy up my hair. I couldn't go today because the cat went to the vet to get his stitches out, but it was almost glorious. One day, about a week ago, I nearly went to Rapa Nui, stowed away aboard a boat. I saw it through the window of the bus and knew it was no ordinary ship. If I had gone, I might have found the secrets of the red stone hats and stood before those silent idols, basking in the power of their praise. I could have stayed and listened to the whispers of the wind, watched the secret semaphore of feathers, floating on the tide and let the hot-sun smell of summer grass begin to warm my cold and rain-numbed soul. But first, I have to cut the grass and trim the scraggly edges of the hedge. There are so many splendid places I have almost been.