Sunday, April 24, 2011

When she was 18, she decided that her life would never be fulfilling unless she lived it like a ride that didn't end. So she left home and made a plan to see everything.

And then she did it.

She believed in every major religion, but only until she found something that bothered her about it. She lived on the edges of the earth, surviving on what she could find only to do it again somewhere else. She'd even learned all the ways to tell a fortune, but her favorite one was reading palms.

She told me that a hand was a person's journal. That stories both past and future could be told from it. And that even if I looked closely, I'd never know the traits of a hand's owner. Only the kind of person they were.
"The hand is not a place for prejudice.
In the palm, there is no woman or man, poor or rich
there is only an endless spring of human expression."

But then she told me that her life had still felt unfulfilled and ended her story with, "So here we are", like she'd taken me on a weekend trip to her parents' house. I searched for the usual words, but they were empty words. Words not worth the weight of her story. Had she seen me as I'd felt, i'd have been no more than a speck of salt that escaped onto the table. Did she think I could actually fill the void that the entire sum of Earth failed to?

"I'm glad we did this. I haven't really talked to someone familiar in ages. It's been a pretty lonely set of years to tell you the truth. You think the strangers you meet will be all the company you need, but that's not true at all. You feel so small when you're floating with the wind."

And I realized. That she too felt like a salt crystal. That there was a limit to how superhuman a superhero could be.

Everybody needs somebody. It was really that simple.


  1. The last line said it all. Its as simple as that. Beautifully written!


  2. Beautifully written...speck of salt, amazing line!

  3. True.

    Love always,