Flavors
By Susan Mardele
On a bus trip from Texas to Canada,
we stopped frequently
to load and unload passengers.
I’d get out of the stale bus air,
step away from the clouds of nicotine,
and just…breathe.
I sampled the air everywhere we stopped.
Like sampling flavors of ice cream
before deciding which I wanted in a cone.
Texas air was familiar, hot and heavy,
a warm, wet, wool blanket full of history.
Mountain air was high, cool, thin and
a crisp baby blue. Like freedom.
Air on the plains breathed dry and hot
with a hint of dust, sunburn and desperation.
British Columbia air inhaled green, saturated
with daily rain, frequent rainbows and peace.
Pueblo, Colorado was my favorite.
Dry and bright, warm in the sun and
cool in the shade. Like home.
But finding my favorite didn’t turn out
to be the most important thing.
In the end, what was most important…
was the tasting.