The Green Tunnel

I live in Alabama. For all you crazy stalkers out there who read my blog, I just made finding me that much easier. But it still won't be very easy for reasons that will shortly be discussed. The name Alabama, we are told in our third grade Alabama History class, comes from some old Indian (or Native American, or whatever you want to call it) words. These are not always the same words, though, and they mean different things, things like "land of many rivers" or "thicket clearers" or, my personal favorite, "a thick mass of vegetation." This last definition is the one I will be going with, because I think it most accurately describes our state.
This morning, my sister's car was overheating. Yes, this is relevant, trust me. So she took my car to work, and I did what I could to fix her car. I then took it out for a road test. I think that's what they call it at garage's when they charge you for it. For interested parties, the car now works fine. Yay for checking fluids!
Allow me to digress a moment. We'll get back to the road test and thick masses of vegetation in a moment. When it comes to the relationship between car and driver, girls behave more like guys do in a relationship between man and woman. Namely, they do not like to communicate. Or rather, they do not communicate as often as they should. You have to get to know your car, and check up on it to see how it's doing. Just little things like checking the oil and coolant levels, or the tire pressure. These little acts of kindness can save you a lot of trouble down the road. But the attitude that most girls have towards their vehicle was expressed succinctly by a female friend of mine: "As long as it works, I don't care how or why." Imagine if this sort of attitude was carried over into human relationships? Without taking care of the little things to ensure that relationships continue to run smoothly, you're potentially setting yourself up for a major blowout down the road. Ok, I'm done. Back to the story.
So I was out on the road test. I took the car back to this great, winding back road that I know of that's very near our house. If I ever had a motorcycle, I would ride it back there all the time. Heck, I might buy a motorcycle just so I can ride it back there. But there was so much GREEN. Life grows fiercely in Alabama. Every inch of ground that's not yard or pavement has something growing and thriving in it. If you have ever done much tramping in the woods round about, then you know how often you come to a place where you simply cannot go any further forward because of how thick the plants are growing. I mean seriously, you leave a field unattended for a few weeks and you will come back to find a jungle! As I was driving along those back roads, I really did feel like I was driving through a green tunnel, what with the trees all growing so tall and wide and hanging over on each side of the road. I have often thought of Alabama as one big, thick mass of vegetation, with a few hollowed out spaces for people to live. This is fortunate, because when The Collapse comes, we can all run out into the woods and no one will be able to find us. Including you, creepy stalker.

To Lay the Burden Down

He watched the ships as the wind took them. The dock creaked under his feet as the water pushed the ships further and further from shore, far into the open sea, to be lost from sight until eyes on some foreign shore should see them. It was a lonely sight to watch a ship vanish to nothing.
"Will you also go away?"
He had not heard her come, but there she stood with her arms wrapped around her against the chill wind that blew from the sea. She was not looking at him, but instead was gazing out at the fast shrinking ships as he had been. And she was shivering. Idly he thought that he would have liked to provide her a cloak. Had he owned one. But as it stood now he had but the clothes on his back, the shoes on his feet, one sword, and nothing to offer the shivering woman beside him. Nothing to offer. Nothing. His eyes went back to the ships.
"I think I will." One galley remained at the docks, and as he spoke those words, he decided: he
would be on it when it too vanished from sight of these shores. And then he would meet those foreign eyes with sword in hand.
"Why? Can you tell me why you are going? Do you even know yourself?" She wasn't looking at the ships anymore. He didn't look, but he knew. He could feel her staring at his face, eyes rapidly searching for a hint of an answer before he gave one. You learned to watch the eyes in his line of work.
They give away so much. He knew why he was going, and he would tell her, but she wouldn't like it. No one ever did.
"The men in those ships are going to war, and I belong with them. Peace has come to this land, so it is high time that I left it. Peace leaves no room for a man like me. I must go where I can be most useful."
"There's more to life than war, you know." He was right. She didn't like it. She didn't understand. He didn't know why he had expected anything different.
"And I suppose you would tell a master sculptor that there is more to life than marble and
granite?"
"I would expect a master sculptor to know better."
"Not if he was truly devoted to his craft. To truly be a master of anything, you must pursue it
above all else."
"But why must you leave this time, to this war? Everyone knows you're already a master of
your...craft, or whatever it is you call it."
"Any sculptor who did not pick up his tools from time to time would hardly a sculptor, would
he?"