Contributor: Eric Suhem
- -
“3rd floor souls, Hardware and Lawn Care!” announced the department store elevator operator, a round jovial man with twinkling eyes and a mischievous grin. Helen and her husband Don were in the elevator, carrying boxes of hats.
Looking at Don from under her floppy hat, Helen said, “I had a dream that I was in a lobby of 400 elevators, each set of elevator doors a different color. Every few seconds, I hear the ping of one of the elevators, and I run toward its open doors, which slam shut as soon as I reach them. Then another elevator pings, I run toward its doors, they slam shut, and so on. So I keep missing the doors, but in the dream I’m learning how to miss the doors in style. My spiritual advisor says that all this has to do with issues of abandonment. What do you think, Don?”
Don hadn’t heard her, as his mind was filled with visions of green grass, fertilizers, sprinklers, and various lawn care responsibilities. “It’s not sensible to have so many hats,” he observed, looking at Helen’s hat boxes.
He set the boxes down in the elevator, and stepped out onto the 3rd floor of the department store, suddenly finding himself in the middle of a large expanse of grass. A woman in a blue tunic rode across the lawn on a riding mower, waving to him. “Join me on the mower, Don!” she yelled cheerily, “Adventure awaits!”
“You missed a spot,” said Don, pointing to a patch of un-mowed grass, as the woman in the blue tunic rode the mower around in circles.
“Good observation, Don,” said the round jovial elevator operator with the mischievous grin, his twinkling eyes cutting through him. Helen looked on without much regret as Don boarded the riding mower, deserting her in the elevator as the doors closed.
On the next floor, a man in a yellow tunic entered the elevator and picked up one of Helen’s hat boxes. “Get your hands off of that,” ordered Helen promptly, slapping him with a fly swatter she had bought in the ‘House Wares’ section. The man in the yellow tunic wasn’t bothered so much by the fly swatter itself, but did not enjoy the swats of the hard plastic coating package in which the fly swatter was contained. Nevertheless, he continued to eye the hats with great interest.
The elevator stopped at each floor, but Helen did not disembark, as the level of her soul had not been reached. "You're soul's floor is the roof," said the elevator operator jovially, his twinkling eyes cutting through her. Upon reaching the roof, the elevator doors opened upon a sweeping, colorful sky. The man in the yellow tunic led Helen onto the top of the building. As she stared at an airplane in the sky, she flashed back to when she was 8 years old, waving to her parents on the runway as they boarded their flight, her mother in a floppy hat, her father wearing a fedora, hours before they would disappear from her life in a plane crash.
“Hey, we love your hats,” said the people on the roof, all in yellow tunics, admiring the contents of Helen’s hat boxes.
“You’re the first people who have appreciated my accumulation of hats,” she declared, gratefully. Earlier in the day, she had met with her spiritual advisor, who told her that she was buying too many hats.
In the rooftop community, Helen instantly became known, and thrived as ‘The Hat Lady’.
- - -
Eric Suhem lives in California and enjoys the qualities of his vegetable juicer.
Read more »
- -
“3rd floor souls, Hardware and Lawn Care!” announced the department store elevator operator, a round jovial man with twinkling eyes and a mischievous grin. Helen and her husband Don were in the elevator, carrying boxes of hats.
Looking at Don from under her floppy hat, Helen said, “I had a dream that I was in a lobby of 400 elevators, each set of elevator doors a different color. Every few seconds, I hear the ping of one of the elevators, and I run toward its open doors, which slam shut as soon as I reach them. Then another elevator pings, I run toward its doors, they slam shut, and so on. So I keep missing the doors, but in the dream I’m learning how to miss the doors in style. My spiritual advisor says that all this has to do with issues of abandonment. What do you think, Don?”
Don hadn’t heard her, as his mind was filled with visions of green grass, fertilizers, sprinklers, and various lawn care responsibilities. “It’s not sensible to have so many hats,” he observed, looking at Helen’s hat boxes.
He set the boxes down in the elevator, and stepped out onto the 3rd floor of the department store, suddenly finding himself in the middle of a large expanse of grass. A woman in a blue tunic rode across the lawn on a riding mower, waving to him. “Join me on the mower, Don!” she yelled cheerily, “Adventure awaits!”
“You missed a spot,” said Don, pointing to a patch of un-mowed grass, as the woman in the blue tunic rode the mower around in circles.
“Good observation, Don,” said the round jovial elevator operator with the mischievous grin, his twinkling eyes cutting through him. Helen looked on without much regret as Don boarded the riding mower, deserting her in the elevator as the doors closed.
On the next floor, a man in a yellow tunic entered the elevator and picked up one of Helen’s hat boxes. “Get your hands off of that,” ordered Helen promptly, slapping him with a fly swatter she had bought in the ‘House Wares’ section. The man in the yellow tunic wasn’t bothered so much by the fly swatter itself, but did not enjoy the swats of the hard plastic coating package in which the fly swatter was contained. Nevertheless, he continued to eye the hats with great interest.
The elevator stopped at each floor, but Helen did not disembark, as the level of her soul had not been reached. "You're soul's floor is the roof," said the elevator operator jovially, his twinkling eyes cutting through her. Upon reaching the roof, the elevator doors opened upon a sweeping, colorful sky. The man in the yellow tunic led Helen onto the top of the building. As she stared at an airplane in the sky, she flashed back to when she was 8 years old, waving to her parents on the runway as they boarded their flight, her mother in a floppy hat, her father wearing a fedora, hours before they would disappear from her life in a plane crash.
“Hey, we love your hats,” said the people on the roof, all in yellow tunics, admiring the contents of Helen’s hat boxes.
“You’re the first people who have appreciated my accumulation of hats,” she declared, gratefully. Earlier in the day, she had met with her spiritual advisor, who told her that she was buying too many hats.
In the rooftop community, Helen instantly became known, and thrived as ‘The Hat Lady’.
- - -
Eric Suhem lives in California and enjoys the qualities of his vegetable juicer.
0 Comments
Author:
Eric Suhem
