tmbt: backseat vista
I lay down in the backseat spent to the bones of me. Spent to the spinal fluid of me. Spend and thankful for the fetal position required to ride in the back.
The jasmine were breaking out across the fence we passed, and that helped. You said the big corazon exhibit was there for me, and that helped, too. I was walking a little, and it helped. And even the regret and was it fear? for me in the eyes of that sweet Chilean acupuncturist helped, too.
Still, the back seat delivered solitude as promised after the poking electrified AND heated needles, after the little walk we thought would help, and did, a little. And from the backseat I watched as a different view of the car ride delivered more sky to my eyes, more ready-to-bud tree tops, more time to take it all in.
And then, something funny, too. Every once in a while, my eyes cast onto something mostly white, and maybe a little skewed, such that I have to test it with one eye, then the other. And when this happens, as it did then, I remember the difference in views between even the most similar of souls, or the windows into one, as it is with me.
From my right eye, the sky and trees were a pale, cool white and gray, as it would be on an overcast early spring day here. And with only my left turned to the sky, something else offered itself up, a little more rosy, a little more golden. The sun is a little more enlightening, the tree branches a little bit more burnt sienna.
Maybe we all see different things out of our own two eyes. I imagine sometimes that what I see as green, is not what you see as green. Neither red, red. I imagine also that I may just be going colorblind in my right eye – slowly, ever so slowly. Or maybe I was given the difference as a reminder that there is always another point of view. From the other person, from the other seat(back), or simply from my other most beautiful eye (which one is up for debate on any given other moment).
Painting by MyBurningEyes as found on DeviantArt.