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Seeds: The trunk with the blue feather

Posted: Tuesday, Feb 5th, 2013




It was deal breaker for a deal that was never necessary. She had a plan that included making it all the way to Colorado, and she had the space in her car for extra cargo. When she said she was coming and might need an escort from San Antonio, there had to be some kind of tradeoff for that is what sisters often do. She agreed to collect the trunk from underneath linens and photographs from a spare bedroom in Pennsylvania, and kept it in tow for weeks before setting out from Richmond across the Deep South with a boy she met in a cramped jazz club in New Orleans courtesy of her big sisterís invitation.

It was one night during Halloween week when the masks were left on the dresser and the heels traded in for something a bit more reasonable to walk 10 cobblestone blocks. He approached her, and after hours of talking loudly over the music they decided to keep the conversation going outside of the bars. The next morning she was in love, but it was too soon to tell what kind. She made it through three more days in the original Sin City with a glow in her eye that didnít wander and still hasnít faded. She met him at the Richmond International Airport to start the New Year. He was straight from Texas with a guitar in hand, and endless and fitting bouquets of roses for his second date with the sister named Heidi Rose.

They ended up leaving Virginia far too late for a rendezvous at The Alamo, which technically broke the deal that was just a facade for her to travel across the country with a boy in which she was in love, but couldnít accept the entirety of the unpredictable circumstances. Plans changed, but not destination. She had prepared for the sub zero temperatures with furry boots inappropriate for the mild climate of home, and, after weeks of hauling the padlocked trunk around not only the city, but also the nation, she wanted to see what was inside. She wanted to know which one of her sisterís belongings was attached to the blue feather pinched between the leather, tempting the mind to really wonder what had been resting inside while her big sister has been away for long.

He rode with her all the way to Colorado, and carried the trunk inside the morning after they arrived. It sat for a night or two before it clicked open on the first try. Those who had guessed guns, drugs and money had to pay up, and the blue feather turned out to not be a feather at all. It was a frayed ribbon attached to a journal an old friend gave for a birthday a long time ago. The journal was the only empty notebook in the trunk resting on top of many words from before and after that year. There was a funny note inside the journal, and the friendís image sat on top a pile of photographs. We remembered him, and many other people and places that had been keeping quiet in the trunk that might someday end up where it started this time around.

For now, the trunk sits in a new spare bedroom. Heidi Rose is back in Richmond cleaning rose petals off her staircase and her man sings songs with her name while the sun sets in Texas.

It seems sheís taken the blue feather with her back to the east coast. I canít stop wondering what is now resting inside my sister who has already been away for too long.












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