Monday, March 16, 2009

Blog: Potato’s Pulse

Originally Posted January 27, 2008 on MySpace

~ I had another nightmare. I'm working in my parents' back yard and keeping an eye on my niece. She's quiet and content laying in her baby basket. So, I turn back to my task whatever it is.

~ A minute passes before I turn to check on her again. She's still happy laying in her basket of fries. I tend to my work for a moment. I look back to her and she's lying very still. I go to her quickly and discover she's become French fries with ketchup and she's not moving. I poke a fry to see if she responds, nothing. I jostle the basket, nothing. I listen for breathing and think about taking a pulse, but I hear only the breeze and how do you check a potato's pulse? They don't have hearts.

~ I'm getting upset at this point. I run to the house yelling for my sister to help. I get to the kitchen phone to call 911, but I hesitate. I look at the basket of fries, my niece, and I know it's too late. French fries can't live. My heart was heavy. I'd already feared the pain my sister and brother-in-law would suffer as I crossed the yard. I wondered how my parents would take the loss of their only grand-child as I entered the house. Why wasn't I more upset than I was as I looked at her getting cold on the table? I woke up quite relieved to find it was a dream.

~ That evening I was out at my favorite public house, Morton's. One of my friends ordered some pub chips which he couldn't finish. He offered the rest to me and I gobbled them up without considering that I had just dreamed of my niece becoming a lifeless basket of essentially the same thing. Again, as in the dream, I had to question my insensitivity. Sometimes I wonder if I have a heart.


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