by Joni Abilene
Every afternoon I close whatever document I’m working on and head off to my kids’ school. Because my daughter has a propensity for la-laing herself into an outer space world of happy joy-joy down in her heart, like Butterfly McQueen in Gone With the Wind—I don’t know nuthin’ about birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett—I need to be head of the line, or at least somewhere close to head of the line when I get there. I bring a book, fiddle with the internet, wait it out, all is good. I’m a zen kitty. But then as it got colder, I saw more people racing to get to the head of the line. Bastards. Now when I go down the road, singing a happy song to my little piece of crap Mazda radio, I see minivans shooting out in front of me like they’re Edward Snowden with a stolen hard drive.
Now, I don’t need to get all stressed about stuff like this, but Jesus folks, it’s just a school pick up. I have my reason for getting there first, but I refuse to die over it. One time I saw a squirrel trying to cross the road, and one of them minivan fuckers didn’t even stop. I alway cross for squirrels. You know, the meek shall inherited earth and all that.
My point is, life’s too short. There’s shootings here, shootings there, maybe it’s time to slow down and appreciate what we have, and not what we don’t have. Let the squirrels live. That’s all I’m saying.