I get my fair share of kooky emails from conspiracy crazies, neurotic nightcrawlers, and tormented trolls, but none so bizarre as the one I received the evening of June 14, 2021.
Jose heard the soft call of the night bird, mournful and low. “It is a sign.” Jose thought, so he was not afraid when he opened the door.
Three different men, with three different sufferings, and how a tiny Barbie shoe changed their souls.
I lay restlessly in a shallow grave awaiting the Day of the Dead, when my soul will rise to join a tide of others seeking a warm brush with the land of the living ~ one embrace, one more wish for a good trip, one last kiss good-bye.
Like a tall oak that finally lost its powerful clutch of the earth and slumped to the forest floor during the night, or a grandfather clock that had not been wound and gave its last declaration at midnight, the man was gone.