“Do you want a lift to your farm? It is going to rain just now. These clouds look as dark as a man’s face on payday Friday — too many calls from the women in his life asking for a share of his wages.”
Mystic Man laughed and quickly jumped into the truck before I could seriously think about what I was inviting into my space.
“You know I am a nature man. You’ve seen me in the elements.” A teasing smile flirted with his lips which made my neck and face get hot; you could have fried an egg on my cheeks.
I remember all too well. Mystic Man stark mudderation* naked in the bush in full view of my curiously hungry eyes.
“Well, jump out and walk.”
He did not move so I reluctantly started the engine, made a turn on the edge of the narrow path, and headed toward the foothills where John and Mystic Man live.
Neither of us felt the need to talk. My verbal diarrhea had run its course and now my burning desire was to get him home and out of my truck before I got the runs again.
Darkness settled in quickly, helped by the dark clouds and ominous looking sky; the breeze picked up and the temperature dropped a degree or two. We were in for a storm. Would I even be able to make it back home? Or would I have to spend the night?
I flushed hot again and soft laughter, as if he knew what I was thinking, greeted my crimsoning. He should not have been able to see my discomfort from my uncomfortable thoughts; he might have just felt the energy vibration in the air and knew I was thinking. Damn alien!
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a cloud of See me jimmies lit up the night sky directly over the path. Their little globes of glowing light blinking nature’s Morse code — calling a mate, winking out a promise of a good time.
I slowed down, enthralled by the display of what seemed like hundreds of fireflies — elders call them See me jimmy. No one knew where the name came from. They all seemed to be doing an elaborate mating dance. Nature was teasing me, calling me to my raw sexual self. Oh my!
The cloud opened and we crawled through, as if under a flaming arch. Everything was about creation, from the flowers in the field to the minds of the masters. Create or die.
One more bend and we pulled up in front of the foot path leading to Jah Son’s farm. I audibly exhaled. He burst out laughing. He knew. He felt it; to some extent he created it.
With a soft stare and a quiet urging to drive carefully, Mystic Man was out of the truck. He waved goodbye as I drove off, his outline seen standing tall in the distance. Continuing down the path, I quickly passed John’s farm and was on my way home.
I do not know what power held my wheel as I drove into the night but there was a strong protective presence surrounding me. As I passed the spot where the fireflies had appeared, not a single one could be seen lighting the night sky. Strange. They could not all disappeared so quickly. I shrugged, who questions nature?
In less than thirty minutes, my key unlocked my front door. The dogs barked a happy greeting, and after quickly feeding them, I showered, changed into a night shirt, and made my way to bed. Tiredness had me cowed.
As I burrowed under the sheet surrounded by my many pillows for companion, I noticed a light blinking in the ceiling. Blink, blink, pause, blink. At first, I thought it was just light being reflected through a moving curtain, but the pattern was too steady, the wind was never this synchronized. I looked closer. There, lodged between the grooves of the ceiling was a firefly, blinking good night.
The alien had followed me home.
I. Trudie Palmer
One Love
*there was a story about this, A Beauty to Behold.