A Vision of Beauty. A Bouquet of Dead Things. {Short Story}

Or…

You Could Be Alive at Any Second

matias o'din | perception | writings from revel road

My daughter pulls frost-covered wildflowers from the ground at the end of the driveway.

We’re waiting for the bus to come and take her away to learn about useful things and break my heart again—same as four other mornings a week.

She’s got a fist full of wood aster and goldenrod, cornflower and bunny’s ear. They’re all dead and she’s so happy showing me the browns and a little bit of green and even some white in there.

Is it too much, dad? Or it’s enough? And a part of me cringes here because I know she’s gonna give ‘em to the bus driver who’ll throw them away and I don’t want to risk her seeing that.

I almost say, Oh, honey, the bus driver has enough flowers for now. But I don’t. Because what would I be protecting her from, really? Her own Soul’s impulse to share and share joyfully? It’s the most intimate thing, the most natural. She’s expanding into her world.

The words are floating around in front of me—that having a vision of beauty is how we know we’re alive, and how sharing it makes us more fully human. Her boldness is magical and, in as much as it’s effortless, elemental.

I don’t say that, either.

Instead I smile and try to reflect the light coming from wide eyes behind smudged lenses in purple frames. She’s waiting for an answer and can hardly contain herself.

It’s enough, Sof. I’d say it’s perfect.

She beams at me as the bus comes to a stop and the door opens.

Good morning.

Mo’ning, she says climbing giant steps into the bus. Her pink-mittened hand holds the bouquet of dead things and when she gets to the top she thrusts them at the bus driver’s face. I made this for you!

Oh, thank you. You can sit there. Yep. Right there.

The bus driver gives me an eye roll and waits til the seat blocks the line of sight and drops the flowers in the trash.

It doesn’t matter.

Sofi’s already at the window, blowing me kisses.

 

~fin

 


 

Thanks for reading!

Dig this story? Share it with some other Creative Souls!

I appreciate the hell outta ya!

Til next time—and soon,

M.O’D.

 

P.S. Got an idea, an inkling or an aha you’d like to share?

Email me: write@matiasodin.com

I’m all over it.

 

P.P.S. Here’s something relevant:

THE UNIVERSE WANTS TO PLAY. Those who refuse out of dry spiritual greed & choose pure contemplation forfeit their humanity—those who refuse out of dull anguish, those who hesitate, lose their chance at divinity—those who mold themselves blind masks of Ideas & thrash around seeking some proof of their own solidity end by seeing out of dead men’s eyes. ~Hakim Bey

#MayItBeAFuse

 

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