Sheâ€™s on life support. Racing to get there, his Jaguar fishtails on the frozen highway. She was a beauty and elusive as the future, his mother, usually traveling on his birthday.
He felt he couldnâ€™t fly, had to touch dirt every inch of the way. To fly would be to unpeel too fast the onion of his hurt.
Sheâ€™d call. He wouldnâ€™t answer. He was busy.
Now itâ€™s ice he notices, gray molars locking to dark bluffs, the way ice locks his heart in steely winter logic. Then sun shimmers on ice, the lock breaks, and love flows. Relief, oh melting! as he steers toward his mother.