Old Spiders and Wheelchairs

Sand, cactus, rocks, mountains and abundant heat in all directions.  My thoughts drift to an ice cream sandwich.  A snake slithers off in search of shade.  Good-luck, I say.  There is no shade, not under rocks or around corners, there is only bright, blistering sun and even within my thoughts the ice cream sandwich has started to melt.

I have no direction.  I am not going anywhere.  No need for a GPS or WiFi signal.  What's the point?  Why trudge over to that next mountain or out beyond that rock formation?  I am here and this appears to be my destiny.  I am alone now, even the snake has left me.

He knows, I'm sure.  His ice cream sandwich is still cold and fresh.  His fast tongue flicks at the vanilla center;  startled at it's stinging coldness his eyes momentarily close and he moves on, searching for something more familiar.

Why do I focus on that snake, traveling on his stomach across the burning sand?  He is the foolish one, thinking he has someplace to be.

My brain is playing tricks on me now.  I can smell hotdogs.  Someone is cooking them out on a grill and they smell good.  I hadn't thought about being hungry until now.  Maybe a big Chicago dog with a slice of pickle would be good.  OK, I need to focus on something other than food and my own hunger.

I bet Mr. Snake has found himself a tasty bug for his lunch, or maybe some spider who has wandered away from a spider senior center.  You don't think about aging spiders and what they have to deal with, like how many canes do they need just to get around?

The sun is no longer directly overhead, but something is very different.  How long have I been lying here?  Did I pass out?  I don't remember making a conscious decision to lay down here next to this cactus.  I feel the sand sticking to the side of my face.  I can taste it's dryness.  I should stand up.

Laying down like this I no longer tower over the snakes and spiders.  Down here I am on their playing field, we are equals but they have the home court advantage.  Why aren't I standing up?    I need to move now but my legs and arms are not hearing me.  Why can't they hear me?

Again I am aware of the sun's angle, as it penetrates my eyelids.  A voice startles me awake.

"Is this light bothering you?" 

She closes her book and snaps her light off.

"I don't think you turned off your side of the blanket.  It feels pretty toasty."

I roll over and click my blanket off.

Let's have hotdogs tomorrow, I say.

"Sure, if that sounds good."

OK, good-night.

"Good-night."