A Mosquito and Me
I was driving my car to Home Depot with the windows down. I prefer hot wind over cool air in the Summer. A mosquito flew in and got itself stuck under the wind shield. Not really “stuck”… more like trapped. The little fucker kept hitting against the glass and buzzing up and down, most likely questioning why this clear force field was there, or probably not thinking at all. At times, the mosquito just sat there, with its sticky legs, scratching its head. Then it would buzz up and down again. Dude. You got two windows down and the sound of whooshing air to guide you outside, but you can’t get that through your mushy skull, can you?
I don’t even know if you have a skull. Truth is, you’re just like me little guy. Stuck. And the answer is right there. You might even know it too. But still, you push and sit and push and sit right under the glass. Thank God you’re not trapped under ice. Who knows, you might be soon. Except instead of gasping for air you’ll be gasping for fame still. And then you’ll freeze. And all people will see is a frozen statue of what you were: scared at heart and incapable of being the simplest thing of all: You.
The mosquito eventually escaped. I didn’t see it escape, but it wasn’t there anymore. So did it find freedom over time? Is pushing and pushing against the glass and not listening to God’s whisper just wasted time? Or is stubbornness necessary to find the answer to salvation? Thick skulls have the weakest bones once they get to the stage, I think.
During all this I didn’t realize the yellow pollen under my nails. I didn’t notice my eyes get bigger and greener in the rearview mirror. I didn’t feel veiny wings grow out of my back or my butt levitating from the car seat. It only took the sun’s rays to hit my dark green chest to realize I had become that fucker. Thank God I’m at a red light because I’m literally a mosquito right now and this car ain’t going anywhere. So, like, where am I supposed to go? Should I spy on the Milf two lanes over? Should I see if there’s a mosquito party by the rotting mango tree? How about stinging that dude in the Home Depot parking lot who didn’t wear his mask over his nose? Well, how about we get out of the car first. Wait. Did I shut the windows? I can’t hear the wind now. I’m pushing against something, but I don’t know what it is. I can see outside perfectly, but when I try to go there I bump my big green eyes and it hurts. Hmmm. How about over here? Shit, this shield thing is everywhere. Where am I again? How did I get here? I can still smell the sprinkler water and the diesel exhaust from the big brown truck with that uniformed guy I usually say hi to after the afternoon storms. Am I going to die here?
Mosquito tears are much sweeter than human tears. I am lost. God help me. I start to hear cars! I see the flashing red hand on the corner! But I still can’t get to it. I turn around and see a big leather arc and a face through it. A little help please? “Your freedom is closer than you think,” he says without moving his lips. Well, I know that. It’s through the windows. “So why do you ask for help?” Who said I was trying to escape? I was just dancing on the windshield. “Well, little guy, you look quite helpless.” Well, I’m not. I’m just going to keep dancing here.
After a few minutes, I fly out the window when he’s not looking and slurp water from some blades of grass. I’m free, but I pretended I didn’t want to be. What I say and what I feel have nothing to do with each other. My eyes feel sore, and my legs feel tight, and I have one less friend because I thought I could do it on my own. I am free, but God I wish I had someone to share it with. This grass is starting to fold over me, and this time, I’m alone. Take me back to when I wasn’t free and I had eyes watching over me. This isn’t what I wanted, even if I said it’s what I wanted.
I turn into the driveway and think of where that mosquito might be. I’m jealous it found it’s freedom. If only I could share the paradise of a free mind during the age of youth.
