Red Eye
by Karen Rose
March 21, 2007
SFO to Chicago to North Carolina
my husband leaning against the back of my seat
Ruby curled in a fiddlehead next to his big warmth
Giulio in the seat next to me, his lanky energy spent
the engines roaring to the point—should I worry?
in my sterilized-for-my protection blanket, warm but not drowsy
surrounded by the nutshell of my little family
moving forward, the darkness tumbling below
a sonorous group, safe
then, a blood orange sunrise
I slide up the shade, the skyline of Chicago
undiminished
its spires and bulk and dark richness on the shining water
When I lived in New York, a dozen eggshell years
I'd weep each time I flew back from visiting California
this, my first visit from my new home in NC
I don't cry
California, still a jewel, that apparently I can live without
this time I'm coming home to my own trees
loblollies
carpets of them
Hawaiian humidity and heat—and a dead battery
The captain announces our arrival in Chicago, the temperature
the young woman in front of me lifts her eye mask
adjusts her neck pillow and spritzes her face with rose water
ready to check her voice and email
Nobody's mother, I think
About the author:
I am an artist — an abstract painter originally from the San Francisco Bay Area. I lived in New York City for 12 honking siren-filled years, moved back to California (where I worked for Lucasfilm for 7 years) and now reside in Raleigh, North Carolina. I am married with two children and am in love with the South, in particular with my giant cherry tree that will explode into bloom any day now. I am also a longtime fan of Prairie Home Companion and recently was inspired by Garrison's anthology of Good Poems.
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